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BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY

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Assembled by David Magee

THE EEFUG-EES

A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS

BY

A. CONAN DOYLE

VOL. II.

LONDON
LONGMANS, GEEEN, AND CO

1893

BY THE SAME AUTHOB.

MicAH Clarke.

The Captain op the Pole star.

The Doings op Rapples Haw.

The Firm op Girdlestone.

The White Company.

f

The Great Shadow.

(A Study in Scarlet.

-

The Sign op Four.

,The Adventures op Sherlock Holmes.

**f.

CONTENTS.

PAKT I.
IN THE OLD WORLD.

•CHAPTER PAGE

XII. The King Eeceives, 1

XIII. The King has Ideas, 24

XI Y. The Last Card, - - - - - - 34

XV. The Midnight Mission, - - - - 47

XVI. "When the Devil Drives," - - - 60

XVII. The Dungeon of Portillac, - - - 76

XVIII. A Night of Surprises, . . . . 92

XIX. In the King's Cabinet, - - - - 114

XX. The Two Francoises, - - - - - 139

XXI, The Man in the CalI:che, - . - - 158

XXII. The Scaffold of Portillac, - - - 176

XXIII. The Fall of the Catinats, - - - - 187

CHAPTER XII.

THE KING KECEIVES.

It may have been that Mademoiselle Nanon,
the faithful confidante of Madame de Main-
tenon, had learned something of this inter-
view, or it may be that Pere La Chaise, with
the shrewdness for which his Order is famous,
had come to the conclusion that publicity
was the best means of holding the king to
his present intention, but whatever the
source, it was known all over the court
next day that the old favourite was again
in disgrace, and that there was talk of a
marriage between the king and the governess
of his children. It was whispered at the
petit lever, confirmed at the grand entree,
and was common gossip by the time that
the king had returned from chapel. Back

VOL. II. 1

2 THE REFUGEES.

into wardrobe and drawer went the flaring
silks and the feathered hats, and out once more
came the sombre coat and the matronly dress.
Scud^ry and Calpernedi gave place to the
missal and St. Thomas a Kempis, while
Bourdaloue, after preaching for a week to
empty benches, found his chapel packed to
the last seat with weary gentlemen and taper-
bearing ladies. By mid-day there was none
in the court who had not heard the tidings^
save only Madame de Montespan, who,
alarmed at her lover's absence, had remained
in haughty seclusion in her room, and knew
nothing of what had passed. Many there
were who would have loved to carry her
the tidings ; but the king's changes had been
frequent of late, and who would dare to
make a mortal enemy of one who might, ere
many weeks were past, have the lives and
fortunes of the whole court in the hollow
of her hand?

Louis, in his innate selfishness, had been
so accustomed to regard every event entirely

THE KING RECEIVES. 3

from the side of how it would effect himself,
that it had never struck him that his long-
suffering family, who had always yielded to
him the absolute obedience which he claimed
as his right, would venture to offer any opposi-
tion to his new resolution. He was surprised,
therefore, when his brother demanded a
private interview that afternoon, and entered
his presence without the complaisant smile
and humble air with which he was wont to
appear before him.

Monsieur was a curious travesty of his
elder brother. He was shorter, but he wore
enormously high boot-heels, which brought
him to a fair stature. In figure he had none
of that grace which marked the king, nor had
he the elegant hand and foot which had been
the delight of sculptors. He was fat, waddled
somewhat in his walk, and wore an enormous
black wig, which rolled down in rows and
rows of curls^ over his shoulders. His face
was longer and darker than the king's, and
his nose more prominent, though he shared

4 THE REFCJGEES.

with his brother the large brown eyes which
each had inherited from Anne of Austria.
He had none of the simple and yet stately
taste which marked the dress of the monarch,
but his clothes were all tagged over with
fluttering ribbons, which rustled behind him
as he walked, and clustered so thickly over
his feet as to conceal them from view.
Crosses, stars, jewels, and insignia were scat-
tered broadcast over his person, and the
broad blue ribbon of the Order of the Holy
Ghost was slashed across his coat, and
was gathered at the end into a great bow,
which formed the incongruous support of
a diamond-hilted sword. Such was the
figure which rolled towards the king, bearing
in his right hand his many-feathered beaver,
and appearing in his person, as he was
in his mind, an absurd burlesque of the
monarch.

'' Why, Monsieur, you seem less gay than
usual to-day," said the king, with a smile.
'' Your dress, indeed, is bright, but your

THE KING RECEIVES. 5

brow is clouded. I trust that all is well
with madame and with the Due de Char-
tres?"

" Yes, sire, they are well ; but they are
sad like myself, and from the same cause."

'' Indeed ! and why ? "

'' Have I ever failed in my duty as your
younger brother, sire ? "

'' Never, Philippe, never ! " said the king,
laying his hand affectionately upon the other's
shoulder. '' You have set an excellent ex-
ample to my subjects."

'' Then why set a slight upon me ? "

" Philippe ! "

''Yes, sire, I say it is a slight. We are
of royal blood, and our wives are of royal
blood also. You married the Princess of
Spain ; I married the Princess of Bavaria.
It was a condescension, but still I did it.
My first wife was* the Princess of England.
How can we admit into a house which has
formed such alliances as these a woman who
is the widow of a hunchback singer, a mere

6 THE REFUGEES.

lampooner, a man whose name is a byword
through Europe ? "

The king had stared in amazement at his
brother, but his anger now overcame his
astonishment.

'^ Upon my word ! " he cried ; " upon my
word ! I have said just now that you have
been an excellent brother, but I fear that
I spoke a little prematurely. And so you
take upon yourself to object to the lady
whom I select as my wife ! "

'' I do, sire."

" And by what right ? "

'' By the right of the family honour, sire,
which is as much mine as yours."

'^ Man," cried the king, furiously, '' have
you not yet learned that within this king-
dom I am the fountain of honour, and
that whomsoever I may honour becomes by
that very fact honourable ? Were I to take
a cinder-wench out of the Rue Poisson-
niere, I could at my will raise her up until
the highest in France would be proud to

THE KING RECEIVES. 7

bow down before her. Do you not know
this ? "

'' No, I do not/' cried his brother, with
all the obstinacy of a weak man who has
at last been driven to bay. '' I look upon
it as a slight upon me and a slight upon
my wife."

" Your wife ! I have every respect for
Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria, but how is
she superior to one whose grandfather was
the dear friend and comrade in arms of
Henry the Great ? Enough ! I will not
condescend to argue such a matter with you !
Begone, and do not return to my presence
until you have learned not to interfere in
my affairs."

" For all that, my wife shall not know
her ! " snarled Monsieur ; and then, as his
brother took a fiery step or two towards him,
he turned and scuttled out of the room as
fast as his awkward gait and high heels
would allow him.

But the king was to have no quiet that

8 • THE REFUGEES.

day. If Madame de Maintenon's friends
had rallied to her yesterday, her enemies
were active to-day. Monsieur had hardly
disappeared before there rushed into the
room a youth who bore upon his rich attire
every sign of having just arrived from a
dusty journey. He was pale-faced and
auburn-haired, with features which would
have been strikingly like the king's if it were
not that his nose had been disfigured in his
youth. The king's face had lighted up at
the sight of him, but it darkened again as
he hurried forward and threw himself down
at his feet.

''Oh, sire," he cried, ''spare us this grief!
— spare us this humiliation ! I implore you
to pause before you do what will bring dis-
honour upon yourself and upon us ! "

The king started back from him, and paced
angrily up and down the room.

" This is intolerable ! " he cried. " It was
bad from my brother, but worse from my
son. You are in a conspiracy with him.

THE KING RECEIVES. 9

Louis. Monsieur has told you to act this
part."

The Dauphin rose to his feet and looked
steadfastly at his angry father.

'' I have not seen my uncle/' he said. " I
was at Meudon when I heard this news —
this dreadful news — and I sprang upon my
horse, sire, and galloped over to implore you
to think again before you drag our royal
house so low."

^'You are insolent, Louis."

'' I do not mean to be so, sire. But con-
sider, sire, that my mother was a queen, and
that it would be strange indeed if for a step-
mother I had a "

The king raised his hand with a gesture
of authority which checked the word upon
his lips.

'' Silence ! " he cried, '' or you may say that
which would forever set a gulf between us.
Am I to be treated worse than my humblest
subject, who is allowed to follow his own
bent in his private affairs ? "

10 THE REFUGEES.

'' This is not your own private affair, sire ;
all that you do reflects upon your family.
The great deeds of your reign have given a
new glory to the name of Bourbon. Oh, do
not mar it now, sire ! I implore it of you
upon my bended knees ! "

'' You talk like a fool ! " cried his father,
roughly. " I propose to marry a virtuous
and charming lady of one of the oldest
noble families of France, and you talk as
if I were doing something degrading and
unheard of What is your objection to this
lady ? "

" That she is the daughter of a man whose
vices were well known, that her brother is
of the worst repute, that she has led the life
of an adventuress, is the widow of a deformed
scribbler, and that she occupies a menial
position in the palace."

The king had stamped with his foot upon
the carpet more than once during this frank
address, but his anger blazed into a fury at
its conclusion.

THE KING RECEIVES. 11

" Do you dare/' he cried, with flashing
eyes, ''to call the charge of my children a
menial position ? I say that there is no
higher in the kingdom. Go back to Meudon,
sir, this instant, and never dare to open your
mouth again on the subject. Away, I say !
When, in God's good time, your are king of
this country, you may claim your own way,
but until then do not venture to cross the
plans of one who is both your parent and
your monarch."

The young man bowed low, and walked
with dignity from the chamber ; but he turned
with his hand upon the door.

''The Abb6 F^n^lon came with me, sire.
Is it your pleasure to see him ? "

" Away ! away ! " cried the king, furiously,
still striding up and down the room with
angry face and flashing eyes. The Dauphin
left the cabinet, ^nd was instantly succeeded
by a tall thin priest, some forty years of age,
strikingly handsome, with a pale refined face,
large well-marked features, and the easy

12 THE REFUGEES.

deferential bearing of one who has had a
long training in courts. The king turned
sharply upon him, and looked hard at him
with a distrustful eye.

'' Good-day, Abb^ F^n^lon," said he.
''May I ask what the object of this inter-
View IS (

" You have had the condescension, sire, on
more than one occasion, to ask my humble
advice, and even to express yourself after-
wards as being pleased that you had acted
upon it."

" Well ? Well ? Well ? " growled the mon-
arch.

'' If rumour says truly, sire, you are now at
a crisis when a word of impartial counsel
might be of value to you. Need I say that
it would "

'' Tut ! tut ! Why all these words ? " cried
the king. ''You have been sent here by
others to try and influence me against Ma-
dame de Maintenon."

"Sire, I have had nothing but kindness

THE KING RECEIVES. 13

from that lady. I esteem and honour her
more than any lady in France."

" In that case, Abb^, you will, I am sure,
be glad to hear that I am about to marry
her. Good-day, Abb6. I regret that I have
not longer time to devote to this very inte-
resting conversation."

" But, sire "

''When my mind is in doubt, Abb6, I
value your advice very highly. On this
occasion my mind is happily not in doubt.
I have the honour to wish you a very good
day."

The king's first hot anger had died away
by now, and had left behind it a cold, bitter
spirit which was even more formidable to
his antagonists. The Abb6, glib of tongue
and fertile of resource as he was, felt
himself to be silenced and overmatched.
He walked backwards, with three long
bows, as was the custom of the court, and
departed.

But the king had little breathing-space.

14 THE REFUGEES.

His assailants knew that with persistence
they had bent his will before, and they
trusted that they might do so again. It
was Louvois, the minister, now who entered
the room, with his majestic port, his lofty
bearing, his huge wig, and his aristocratic
face, which, however, showed some signs of
trepidation as it met the baleful eye of the
king.

''Well, Louvois, what now?" he asked,
impatiently. " Has some new state matter
arisen ? "

" There is but one new state matter
which has arisen, sire, but it is of such im-
portance as to banish all others from our
mind."

''What, then?"

" Your marriage, sire."

" You disapprove of it ? "

" Oh, sire, can I help it ? "

" Out of my room, sir ! Am I to be
tormented to death by your importunities ?
What ! You dare to linger when I order

THE KING EECEIVES. 15

you to go ! " The king advanced angrily
upon the minister, but Louvois suddenly
flashed out his rapier. Louis sprang back
with alarm and amazement upon his face,
but it was the hilt and not the point which
was presented to him.

" Pass it through my heart, sire ! " the
minister cried, falling upon his knees, his
whole great frame in a quiver with emotion.
" I will not live to see your glory fade ! "

" Great heaven ! " shrieked Louis, throw-
ing the sword down upon the ground, and
raising his hands to his temples, " I believe
that this is a conspiracy to drive me mad.
Was ever a man so tormented in this life ?
This will be a private marriage, man, and it
will not affect the state in the least degree.
Do you hear me ? Have you understood me ?
What more do you want ? "

Louvois gathered himself up, and shot his
rapier back into its sheath.

'' Your Majesty is determined ? " he asked.

^^ Absolutely."

16 THE REFUGEES.

'' Then I say no more. I have done my
duty." He bowed his head as one in deep
dejection when he departed, but in truth
his heart was hghtened within him, for he
had the king's assurance that the woman
whom he hated would, ' even though his
wife, not sit on the throne of the Queens
of France.

These repeated attacks, if they had not
shaken the king's resolution, had at least
irrita^ted and exasperated him to the utmost.
Such a blast of opposition was a new thing
to a man whose will had been the one law
of the land. It left him ruffled and disturbed,
and without regretting his resolution, he still,
with unreasoning petulance, felt inclined to
visit the inconvenience to which he had been
put upon those whose advice he had followed.
He wore accordingly no very cordial face
when the usher in attendance admitted the
venerable figure of Father La Chaise, his
confessor.

'' I wish, you all happiness, sire," said the

THE KING KECEIVES. 17

Jesuit, " and I congratulate you from my
heart that you have taken the great step
which must lead to content both in this
world and the next."

" I have had neither happiness nor con-
tentment yet, father," answered the king,
peevishly. '^I have never been so pestered
in my life. The whole court has been on
its knees to me to entreat me to change my
intention."

The Jesuit looked at him anxiously out of
his keen gray eyes.

'' Fortunately, your Majesty is a man of
strong will," said he, ''and not to be so
easily swayed as they think."

" No, no, I did not give an inch. But
still, it must be confessed that it is very
unpleasant to have so many against one. I
think that most men would have been
shaken."

" Now is the time to stand firm, sire ;
Satan rages to see you passing out of his
power, and he stirs up all his friends and

VOL. II. 2

18 THE REFUGEES.

sends all his emissaries to endeavour to
detain you."

But the king was not in a humour to be
easily consoled.

" Upon my word, father/' said he, ^^ you do
not seem to have much respect for my family.
My brother and my son, with the Abb^
F6n61on and the Minister of War, are the
emissaries to whom you allude."

'' Then there is the more credit to your
Majesty for having resisted them. You have
done nobly, sire. You have earned the praise
and blessing of Holy Church."

'' I trust that what I have done is rights
father," said the king, gravely. '' I should be
glad to see you again later in the evening, but
at present I desire a little leisure for solitary
thought."

Father La Chaise left the cabinet with a
deep distrust of the king's intentions. It was
obvious that the powerful appeals which had
been made to him had shaken if they had
failed to alter his resolution. What would be

THE KING RECEIVES. 19

the result if more were made ? And more
would be made ; that was as certain as that
darkness follows light. Some master-card
must be played now which would bring the
matter to a crisis at once, for every day of
delay was in favour of their opponents. To
hesitate was to lose. All must be staked
upon one final throw.

The bishop of Meaux was waiting in the
anteroom, and Father La Chaise in a few brief
words let him see the danger of the situation,
and the nieans by w^hich they should meet it.
Together they sought Madame de Maintenon
in her room. She had discarded the sombre
widow's dress which she had chosen since her
first coming to court, and wore now, as more
in keeping with her lofty prospects, a rich yet
simple costume of white satin with bows of
silver serge. A single diamond sparkled in
the thick coils of her dark tresses. The
change had taken years from a face and
figure which had always looked much younger
than her age, and as the two plotters looked

20 THE REFUGEES.

upon her perfect complexion, her regular
features, so calm and yet so full of refine-
ment, and the exquisite grace of her
figure and bearing, they could not but feel
that if they failed in their ends, it was not
for want of having a perfect tool at their
command.

She had risen at their entrance, and her
expression showed that she had read upon
their faces something of the anxiety which
filled their minds.

" You have evil news ! " she cried.

'' No, no, my daughter." It was the bishop
who spoke. " But we must be on our guard
against our enemies, who would turn the king
away from you if they could."

Her face shone at the mention of her lover.
''Ah, you do not know!" she cried. ''He
has made a vow. I would trust him as I
would trust myself I know that he will be
true."

But the Jesuit's intellect was arrayed
against the intuition of the woman.

THE KING RECEIVES. 21

'' Our opponents are many and strong," said
he, shaking his head. '' Even if the king
remain firm, he will be annoyed at every
turn, so that he will feel his life is darker
instead of lighter, save, of course, madame,
for that brightness which you cannot fail to
bring with you. We must bring the matter
to an end."

" And how, father ? "

" The marriage must be at once ! "

'' At once ! "

^^ Yes. This very night, if possible."

" Oh, father, you ask too much. The king
would never consent to such a proposal."

'' It is he that will propose it."

" And why ? "

" Because we shall force him to. It is only
thus that all the opposition can be stopped.
When it is done, the court will accept it.
Until it is done, they will resist it."

^^What would you have me do, then,
father ? "

" Resign the king."

22 THE REFUGEES.

'' Resign him ! " she turned as pale as a lily,
and looked at him in bewilderment.
^Mt is the best course, madame."
^' Ah, father, I might have done it last
month, last week, even yesterday morning.
But now — oh, it would break my heart ! "

''Fear not, madame. We advise you for
the best. Go to the king now, at once. Say
to him that you have heard that he has
been subjected to much annoyance upon
your account, that you cannot bear to
think that you should be a cause of dis-
sension in his own family, and therefore
you will release him from his promise,
and will withdraw yourself from the court
forever."

''Go now? At once?"
" Yes, without loss of an instant."
She cast a light mantle about her shoulders.
" I follow your advice," she said. " I believe
that you are wiser than I. But, oh, if he
should take me at my word ! "

" He will not take you at your word."

THE KING RECEIVES. 23

'^ It is a terrible risk."

'' But such an end as this cannot be gained
without risks. Go, my child, and may
heaven's blessing go with you ! "

CHAPTER XIII.

THE KING HAS IDExVS.

The king had remained alone in his cabinet,
wrapped in somewhat gloomy thoughts, and
pondering over the means by which he might
carry out his purpose and yet smooth away
the opposition which seemed to be so
strenuous and so universal. Suddenly there
came a gentle tap at the door, and there was
the woman who was in his thoughts, standing
in the twilight before him. He sprang to his
feet and held out his hands with a smile
which would have reassured her had she
doubted his constancy.

'' Fran^oise ! You here ! Then I have at
last a welcome visitor, and it is the first one
to-day."

" Sire, I fear that you have been troubled."

''I have indeed, Francoise."

(24) ,

THE KING HAS IDEAS. 25

'' But I have a remedy for it."

'' And what is that ? "

'^ I shall leave the court, sire, and you shall
think no more of v^hat has passed between us.
I have brought discord where I meant to
bring peace. Let me retire to St. Cyr, or to
the Abbey of Fontevrault, and you will no
longer be called upon to make such sacrifices
for mv sake."

The king turned deathly pale, and clutched
at her shawl with a trembling hand, as though
he feared that she was about to put her
resolution into effect that very instant. For
years his mind had accustomed itself to lean
upon hers. He had turned to her whenever
he needed support, and even when, as in the
last week, he had broken away from her for
a time, it was still all-important to him
to know that she was there, the faithful
friend, ever forgiving, ever soothing, waiting
for him with her ready counsel and sympathy.
But that she should leave him now, leave him
altogether, such a thought had never occurred

26 THE REFUGEES.

to him, and it struck him with a chill of
surprised alarm.

" You cannot mean it, Francoise/' he cried,
in a trembling voice. '' No, no, it is impossible
that you are in earnest."

'' It would break my heart to leave you,
sire, but it breaks it also to think that for my
sake you are estranged from your own family
and ministers."

/^Tut! Am I not the king? Shall I not
take my own course without heed to them ?
No, no, Francoise, you must not leave me 1
You must stay with me and be my wife." He
could hardly speak for agitation, and he still
grasped at her dress to detain her. She had
been precious to him before, but was far more
so now that there seemed to be a possibility
of his losing her. She felt the strength of her
position, and used it to the utmost.

'' Some time must elapse before our wed-
ding, sire. Yet during all that interval you
will be exposed to these annoyances. How
can I be happy when I feel that I have

THE KING HAS IDEAS. 27

brought upon you so long a period of
discomfort ? "

" And why should it be so long, Francoise ? "

" A day would be too long, sire, for you to
be unhappy through my fault. It is a misery
to me to think of it. Believe me, it would be
better that I should leave you."

'' Never ! You shall not ! Why should we
even wait a day, Francoise ? I am ready. You
are ready. Why should we not be married
now ? "

" At once ! Oh, sire ! "

" We shall. It is my wish. It is my order.
That is my answer to those who would drive
me. They shall know nothing of it until it
is done, and then let us see which of them
will dare to treat my wife with anything but
respect. Let it be done secretly, Francoise.
I will send in a trusty messenger this very
night for the Archbishop of Paris, and I
swear that, if all France stand in the way, he
shall make us man and wife before he
departs."

28 THE REFUGEES.

''Is it your will, sire?"

'' It is ; and ah, I can see by your eyes that
it is yours also ! We shall not lose a moment,
Francoise. What a blessed thought of mine,
which will silence their tongues forever !
When it is ready they may know, but not
before. To your room, then, dearest of
friends and truest of women ! When we
meet again, it will be to form a band which
all this court and all this kingdom shall not
be able to loose."

The king was all on fire with the ex-
citement of this new resolution. He had lost
his air of doubt and discontent, and he paced
swiftly about the room with a smiling face
and shining eyes. Then he touched a small
gold bell, which summoned Bontems, his
private body-servant.

" What o'clock is it, Bontems ? "

''It is nearly six, sire."

" Hum ! " The king considered for some
moments. "Do you know where Captain de
Catinat is, Bontems ? "

THE KING HAS IDEAS. 29

''He was in the grounds, sire, but I heard
that he would ride back to Paris to-night."

" Does he ride alone ? "

" He has one friend with him."

" Who is this friend ? An officer of the
guards ? "

, " No, sire ; it is a stranger from over the
seas, from America, as I understand, who has
stayed with him of late, and to whom Monsieur
de Catinat has been showing the wonders of
your Majesty's palace."

" A stranger ! So much the better. Go,
Bontems, and bring them both to me."

" I trust that they have not started, sire. I
will see." He hurried off, and was back in
ten minutes in the cabinet once more.

" Well ? "

" I have been fortunate, sire. Their horses
had been led out and their feet were in the
stirrups when I reached them."

'' Where are they, then ? "

''They await your Majesty's orders in the
anteroom."

30 THE KEFITGEE8.

'' Show them in, Bontems, and give admis-
sion to none, not even to the minister, mitil
they have left me."

To De Catinat an audience with the mon-
arch was a common incident of his duties, but
it was with profound astonishment that he
learned from Bontems that his friend and
companion was included in the order. He
was eagerly endeavouring to whisper into the
young American's ear some precepts and
warnings as to what to do and what to avoid,
when Bontems reappeared and ushered them
into the presence.

It was with a feeling of curiosity, not
unmixed with awe, that Amos Green, to
whom Governor Dongan, of New York, had
been the highest embodiment of human power,
entered the private chamber of the greatest
monarch in Christendom. The magnificence
of the antechamber in which he had waited,
the velvets, the paintings, the gildings, with
the throng of gaily dressed officials and of
magnificent guardsmen, had all impressed his

THE KING HAS IDEAS. 31

imagination, and had prepared him for some
wondrous figure robed and crowned, a fit
centre for such a scene. As his eyes fell upon
a quietly dressed, bright-eyed man, half a
head shorter than himself, with a trim dapper
figure and an erect carriage, he could not help
glancing round the room to see if this were
indeed the monarch, or if it were some other
of those endless officials who interposed them-
selves between him and the outer world. The
reverent salute of his companion, however,
showed him that this must indeed be the
king, so he bowed, and then drew himself
erect with the simple dignity of a man who
had been trained in nature's school.

'' Good-evening, Captain de Catinat," said
the king, with a pleasant smile. ''Your
friend, as I understand, is a stranger to this
country. I trust, sir, that you have found
something here to interest and to amuse
you ? "

''Yes, your Majesty. I have seen your
^reat city, and it is a wonderful one. And

32 THE REFUGEES.

my friend has shown me this palace, with its
woods and its grounds. When I go back
to my own country I will have much to say of
what I have seen in your beautiful land."

" You speak French, and yet you are not a
Canadian."

'^ No, sire ; I am from the English pro-
vinces."

The king looked with interest at the power-
ful figure, the bold features, and the free
bearing of the young foreigner, and his mind
flashed back to the dangers which the Comte
de Frontenac had foretold from these same
colonies. If this were indeed a type of his
race, they must in truth be a people whom it
would be better to have as friends than as
enemies. His mind, however, ran at present
on other things than statecraft, and he
hastened to give De Catinat his orders for
the night.

'' You will ride into Paris on mv service.
Your friend can go with you. Two are safer
than one when they bear a message of state.

THE KING HAS IDEAS. 33

I wish you, however, to wait until nightfall
before you start"

''Yes, sire."

" Let none know your errand, and see that
none follow you. You know the house of
Archbishop Harlay, prelate of Paris ? "

" Yes, sire."

'' You will bid him drive out hither and be
at the northwest side postern by midnight.
Let nothing hold him back. Storm or fine,
he must be here to-night. It is of the first
importance."

" He shall have your order, sire."

" Very good. Adieu, captain. Adieu,
monsieur. I trust that your stay in France
may be a pleasant one." He waved his hand,
smiling with the fascinating grace which had
won so many hearts, and so dismissed the
two friends to their new mission.

VOL. II.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LAST CAED.

Madame de Montespan still kept her rooms,
uneasy in mind at the king's disappearance,
but unwilling to show her anxiety to. the court
by appearing among them, or by making any
inquiry as to what had occurred. While she
thus remained in ignorance of the sudden and
complete collapse of her fortunes, she had one
active and energetic agent who had lost no
incident of what had occurred, and who
watched her interests with as much zeal as
if they were his own. And indeed they
were his own ; for her brother, Monsieur de
Vivonne, had gained everything for which
he yearned, money, lands, and preferment,
through his sister's notoriety, and he well
knew that the fall of her fortunes must be

very rapidly followed by that of his own. By

(34)

THE LAST CARD. 35

nature bold, unscrupulous, and resourceful, he
was not a man to lose the game without
playing it out to the very end with all the
energy and cunning of which he was capable.
Keenly alert to all that passed, he had, from
the time that he first heard the rumour of the
king's intention, haunted the antechamber and
drawn his own conclusions from what he had
seen. Nothing had escaped him — the discon-
solate faces of Monsieur and of the Dauphin,
the visit of Pere La Chaise and Bossuet to the
lady's room, her return, the triumph which
shone in her eyes as she came away from the
interview. He had seen Bontems hurrv off
and summons the guardsman and his friend.
He had heard them order their horses to be
brought out in a couple of hours' time, and
finally, from a spy whom he employed among
the servants, he learned that an unwonted
bustle was going forward in Madame de
Maintenon's room, that Mademoiselle Nanon
was half wild with excitement, and that two
court milliners had been hastily summoned to

36 ' THE REFUGEES.

madame's apartment. It was only, however,
when he heard from the same servant that a
chamber was to be prepared for the reception
that night of the Archbishop of Paris that he
understood how urgent was the danger.

Madame de Montespan had spent the
evening stretched upon a sofa, in the worst
possible humour with every one around her.
She had read, but had tossed aside the book.
She had written, but had torn up the paper.
A thousand fears and suspicions chased each
other through her head. What had become
of the king, then ? He had seemed cold
yesterday, and his eyes had been forever
sliding round to the clock. And to-day he
had not come at all. Was it his gout, per-
haps ? Or was it possible that she was again
losing her hold upon him ? Surely it could
not be that ! She turned upon her couch and
faced the mirror which flanked the door. The
candles had just been lit in her chamber,
two score of them, each with silver backs
which reflected their light until the room

THE LAST CARD. 37

was as bright as day. There in the mirror
was the brilliant chamber, the deep red otto-
man, and the single figure in its gauzy dress
of white and silver. She leaned upon her
elbow, admiring the deep tint of her own eyes
with their long dark lashes, the white curve
of her throat, and the perfect oval of her face.
She examined it all carefully, keenly, as
though it were her rival that lay before her,
but nowhere could she see a scratch of time's
malicious nails. She still had her beauty,
then. And if it had once won the king, why
should it not suffice to hold him ? Of course
it would do so. She reproached herself for
her fears. Doubtless he was indisposed, or
perhaps he would come still. Ha ! there was
the sound of an opening door and of a quick
step in her anteroom. Was it he, or at least
his messenger with a note from him ?

But no, it was her brother, with the hag-
gard eyes and drawn face of a man who is
weighed down with his own evil tidings. He
turned as he entered, fastened the door, and

38 THE REFUGEES.

then striding across the room, locked the
other one which led to her boudoir.

'' We are safe from interruption/' he panted.
'' I have hastened here, for every second may
be invaluable. Have you heard anything
from the king ? "

^'Nothing." She had sprung to her feet,
and was gazing at him with a face which was
as pale as his own.

" The hour has come for action, Francoise.
It is the hour at which the Mortemarts have
always shown at their best. Do not yield to
the blow, then, but gather yourself to meet
it."

'' What is it ? " She tried to speak in her
natural tone, but only a whisper came to her
dry lips.

" The king is about to marry Madame de
Maintenon."

" The gouxernante ! The widow Scarron !
It is impossible ! "

^^ It is certain."

" To marry ? Did you say to marry ? "

THE LAST CARD. 39

'' Yes, he will marry her."

The woman flung out her hands in a gesture
of contempt, and laughed loud and bitterly.

" You are easily frightened, brother/' said
she. " Ah, you do not know your little sister.
Perchance if you were not my brother you
might rate my powers more highly. Give
me a day, only one little day, and you will
see Louis, the proud Louis, down at the hem
of my dress to ask my pardon for this slight.
I tell you that he cannot break the bonds
that hold him. One day is all I ask to bring
him back."

'' But you cannot have it."

^^What?"

" The marriage is to-night."

'' You are mad, Charles."

" I am certain of it." In a few broken
sentences he shot out all that he had seen
and heard. She listened with a grim face,
and hands which closed ever tighter and
tighter as he proceeded. But he had said
the truth about the Mortemarts. They came

40 THE REFUGEES.

of a contentious blood, and were ever at their
best at a moment of action. Hate rather
than dismay filled her heart as she listened,
and the whole energy of her nature gathered
and quickened to meet the crisis.

'' I shall go and see him," she cried, sweep-
ing towards the door.

" No, no, Francoise. Believe me you will
ruin everything if you do. Strict orders have
been given to the guard to admit no one to
the king."

'' But I shall insist upon passing them."

" Believe me, sister, it is worse than useless.
I have spoken with the officer of the guard,
and the command is a stringent one."

'^ Ah, I shall manage."

" No, you shall not." He put his back
against the door. " I know that it is useless,
and I will not have my sister make herself the
laughing-stock of the court, trying to force her
way into the room of a man who repulses her."

His sister's cheeks flushed at the words,
and she paused irresolute.

THE LAST CARD. 41

" Had I only a day, Charles, I am sure that
I could bring him back to me. There has
been some other influence here, that meddle-
some Jesuit or the pompous Bossuet, perhaps.
Only one day to counteract their wiles ! Can
I not see them waving hell-fire before his
foolish eyes, as one swings a torch before a
bull to turn it ? Oh, if I could but baulk
them to-night ! That woman ! that cursed
woman ! The foul viper which I nursed in
my bosom ! Oh, I had rather see Louis in
his grave than married to her ! Charles,
Charles, it must be stopped ; I say it must
be stopped ! I will give anything, everything,
to prevent it ! "

" What will you give, my sister ? "
She looked at him aghast. " What ! you
do not wish me to buy you ? " she said.
'' No ; but I wish to buy others."
'' Ha ! You see a chance, then ! "
" One, and one only. But time presses. I
want money."
'' How much ? "

42 THE REFUGEES.

" I cannot have too much. All that you
can spare."

With hands which trembled with eagerness
she unlocked a secret cupboard in the wall in
which she concealed her valuables. A blaze
of jewellery met her brother's eyes as he
peered over her shoulder. Great rubies,
costly emeralds, deep ruddy beryls, glimmer-
ing diamonds, were scattered there in one
brilliant shimmering many-coloured heap, the
harvest which she had reaped from the king's
generosity during more than fifteen years.
At one side were three drawers, the one over
the other. She drew out the lowest one. It
was full to the brim of glittering loiiis cVors,

" Take what you will ! " she said. '' And
now your plan ! Quick ! "

He stuffed the money in handfuls into the
side pockets of his coat. Coins slipped
between his fingers and tinkled and wheeled
over the floor, but neither cast a glance at
them.

'' Your plan ? " she repeated.

THE LAST CARD. 43

''We must prevent the Archbishop from
arriving here. Then the marriage would be
postponed until to-morrow night, and you
would have time to act."

" But how prevent it ? "

" There are a dozen good rapiers about the
court which are to be bought for less than I
carry in one pocket. There is De la Touche,
young Turberville, old Major Despard, Ray-
mond de Carnac, and the four Latours. I will
gather them together, and wait on the road."

'' And waylay the Archbishop ? "

" No ; the messengers."

" Oh, excellent ! You are a prince of
brothers ! If no message reach Paris, we
are saved. Go ; go ; do not lose a moment,
my dear Charles."

" It is very well, Francoise ; but what are
we to do with them when we get them ? We
may lose our heads over the matter, it seems
to me. After all, they are the king's mes-
sengers, and we can scarce pass our swords
through them."

44 THE EEFUGEES.

'' No ? "

'^ There would be no forgiveness for that."

'^ But consider that before the matter is
looked into I shall have regained my influence
with the king."

^^All very fine, my little sister, but how
long is your influence to last ? A pleasant
life for us if at every change of favour we
have to fly the country ! No, no, Francoise ;
the most that we can do is to detain the mes-
sengers."

'' Where can you detain them ? "

" I have an idea. There is the castle
of the Marquis de Montespan at Por-
tillac."

" Of my husband ! "

'' Precisely."

'' Of my most bitter enemy ! Oh, Charles,
you are not serious."

'' On the contrary, I was never more so.
The Marquis was away in Paris yesterday,
and has not yet returned. Where is the
ring with his arms ? "

THE LAST CARD. 45

She hunted among her jewels and picked
out a gold ring with a broad engraved face.

'' This will be our key. When good Mar-
ceau, the steward, sees it, every dungeon in
the castle will be at our disposal. It is that
or nothing. There is no other place where
we can hold them safe."

" But when my husband returns ? "

" Ah, he may be a little puzzled as to his
captives. And the complaisant Marceau may
have an evil quarter of an hour. But that
may not be for a week, and by that time, my
little sister, I have confidence enough in you
to think that you really may have finished
the campaign. Not another word, for every
moment is of value. Adieu, Francoise ! We
shall not be conquered without a struggle. I
will send a message to you to-night to let you
know how fortune uses us." He took her
fondly in his arms, kissed her, and then
hurried from the room.

For hours after his departure she paced
up and down with noiseless steps upon the

46 THE REFUGEES.

deep soft carpet, her hands still clenched, her
eyes flaming, her whole soul wrapped and
consumed with jealousy and hatred of her
rival. Ten struck, and eleven, and midnight,
but still she waited, fierce and eager, straining
her ears for every foot-fall which might be
the herald of news. At last it came. She
heard the quick step in the passage, the tap
at the anteroom door, and the whispering of
her black page. Quivering with impatience,
she rushed in and took the note herself from
the dusty cavalier who had brought it. It
was but six words scrawled roughly upon a
wisp of dirty paper, but it brought the colour
back to her cheeks and the smile to her lips.
It was her brother's writing, and it ran, " The
Archbishop will not come to-night ".

CHAPTER XV.

THE MIDNIGHT MISSION.

De Catinat in the meanwhile was perfectly
aware of the importance of the mission which
had been assigned to him. The secrecy
which had been enjoined by the king, his
evident excitement, and the nature of his
orders, all confirmed the rumours which were
already beginning to buzz round the court.
He knew enough of the intrigues and antago-
nisms with which the court was full to under-
stand that every precaution was necessary in
carrying out his instructions. He waited^
therefore, until night had fallen before order-
ing his soldier-servant to bring round the
two horses to one of the less public gates
of the grounds. As he and his friend walked
together to the spot, he gave the young

American a rapid sketch of the situation at

(47)

48 ~ THE REFUGEES.

the court, and of the chance that this nocturnal
ride might be an event which would affect
the future history of France.

'' I like your king/' said Amos Green,
''and I am glad to ride in his service. He
is a slip of a man to be the head of a great
nation, but he has the eye of a chief If one
met him alone in a Maine forest, pne would
know him as a man who was different to
his fellows. Well, I am glad that he is going
to marry again, though it's a great house
for any woman to have to look after."

De Catinat smiled at his comrade's idea
of a queen's duties.

''Are you armed?" he asked. "You have
no sword or pistols ? "

" Xo ; if I may not carry my gun, I had
rather not be troubled by tools that I have
never learned to use. I have my knife. But
why do you ask ? "

"Because there may be danger."

" And how ? "

" Many have an interest in stopping this

THE MIDNIGHT MISSION. 49

marriage. All the first men of the kingdom
are bitterly against it. If they could stop
us, they would stop it, for to-night at least."

'' But I thought it was a secret ? "

" There is no such thing at a court. There
is the Dauphin, or the king's brother, either
of them, or any of their friends, would be
right glad that we should be in the Seine
before we reached the Archbishop's house
this night. But who is this ? "

A burly figure had loomed up through the
gloom on the path upon which they were going.
As it approached, a coloured lamp dangling
from one of the trees shone upon the blue
and silver of an officer of the guards. It
was Major de.Brissac, of De Catinat's own
regiment.

" Hullo ! Whither away ? " he asked.

'^To Paris, major."

'^ I go there myself within an hour. Will
you not wait, that we may go together ? "

'^ I am sorry, but I ride on a matter of
urgency. I must not lose a minute."

VOL. II. 4

50 THE REFUGEES.

''Very good. Good-night, and a pleasant
ride."

" Is he a trusty man, our friend the major?"
asked Amos Green, glancing back.

" True as steel."

''Then I would have a word with him."
The American hurried back along the way
they had come, while De Catinat stood chaff-
ing at this unnecessary delay. It was a full
five minutes before his companion joined him,
and the fiery blood of the French soldier was
hot with impatience and anger.

" I think that perhaps you had best ride
into Paris at your leisure, my friend," said
he. " If I go upon the king's service I cannot
be delayed whenever the whim takes you."

" I am sorry," answered the other, quietly.
" I had something to say to your major, and I
thought that maybe I might not see him again."

" Well, here are the horses," said the
guardsman as he pushed open the postern-
gate. " Have you fed and watered them^
Jacques ? "

THE MIDNIGHT MISSION. 51

'' Yes, my captain," answered the man who
stood at their head.

" Boot and saddle, then, friend Green, and
we shall not draw rein again until we see the
lights of Paris in front of us."

The soldier-groom peered through the dark-
ness after them with a sardonic smile upon
his face. '' You won't draw rein, won't you ? ''
he muttered as he turned away. " Well, we
shall see about that, my captain ; we shall
see about that."

For a mile or more the comrades galloped
along, neck to neck and knee to knee. A
wind had sprung up from the westward, and
the heavens were covered with heavy gray
clouds, which drifted swiftlv across, a crescent
moon peeping fitfully from time to time be-
tween the rifts. Even during these moments
of brightness the road, shadowed as it was by
heavy trees, was very dark, but when the light
was shut off it was hard, but for the loom upon
either side, to tell where it lay. De Catinat at
least found it so, and he peered anxiously over

52 THE REFUGEES.

his horse's ears, and stooped his face to the
mane in his efforts to see his way.

" What do you make of the road ? " he
asked at last.

'' It looks as if a good many carriage
wheels had passed over it to-day."

''What! Mon Dieu! Do you mean to
say that you can see carriage wheels there ? "

" Certainly. Why not ? "

''Why, man, I cannot see the road at all."

Amos Green laughed heartily. " When
you haye travelled in the woods by night as
often as I have," said he, "when to show a
light may mean to lose your hair, one comes
to learn to use one's eyes."

" Then you had best ride on, and I shall
keep just behind you. So ! Hola ! What
is the matter now ? "

There had been the sudden sharp snap of
something breaking, and the American had
reeled for an instant in the saddle.

" It's one of my stirrup leathers. It has
fallen."

THE MIDNIGHT MISSION. 53

" Can vou find it ? "

" Yes ; but I can ride as well without it.
Let us push on."

'' Very good. I can just see you now."

They had galloped for about five minutes
in this fashion, De Catinat's horse's head
within a few feet of the other's tail, when
there was a second snap, and the guardsman
rolled out of the saddle on to the ground.
He kept his grip of the reins, however, and
was up in an instant at his horse's head,
sputtering out oaths as only an angry French-
man can.

'' A thousand thunders of heaven!" he cried.
'' What was it that happened then ? "

''Your leather has gone too."

" Two stirrup leathers in five minutes ? It
is not possible."

''It is not possible that it should be
chance," said the American, gravely, swinging
himself off his horse. " Why, what is this ?
My other leather is cut, and hangs only by a
thread."

54 , THE REFUGEES.

'^And so does mine. I can feel it when I
pass my hand along. Have you a tinder-box ?
Let us strike a light."

'' No, no ; the man who is in the dark is in
safety. I let the other folk strike lights. Wp
can see all that is needful to us."

" My rein is cut also."

'^ And so is mine."

^' And the girth of my saddle."

'' It is a wonder that we came so far with
whole bones. Now, who has played us this
httle trick ? "

'^ Who could it be but that rogue, Jacques !
He has had the horses in his charge. By my
faith, he shall know what the strappado means
when I see Versailles again."

" But why should he do it ? "

'' Ah, he has been set on to it. He has
been a tool in the hands of those who wished
to hinder our iourney."

'' Very like. But they must have had some
reason behind. They knew well that to cut
our straps would not prevent us from reaching

THE MIDNIGHT MISSION. 55

Paris, since we could ride bareback, or, for
that matter, could run it if need be."

'' They hoped to break our necks."

'^ One neck they might break, but scarce
those of two, since the fate of the one would
warn the other."

" Well, then, what do you think that they
meant?" cried De Catinat, impatiently. ''For
heaven's sake, let us come to some conclusion,
for every minute is of importance."

But the other was not to be hurried out of
his cool, methodical fashion of speech and of
thought.

''They could not have thought to stop
us," said he. "What did they mean, then?
They could only have meant to delay us.
And why should they wish to delay us ?
What could it matter to them if we gave
our message an hour or two sooner or
an hour or two later ? It could not
matter."

" For heaven's sake " broke in De

Catinat, impetuously.

56 THE REFUGEES.

But Amos Green went on hammering the
matter slowly out.

''Why should they wish to delay us, then?
There's only one reason that I can see. In
order to giye other folk time to get in front of
us and stop us. That is it, captain. I'd lay
you a beayer-skin to a rabbit-pelt that I'm on
the track. There's been a party of a dozen
horsemen along this ground since the dew began
to fall. If we were delayed, they would haye
time to form their plans before we came."

''By my faith, you may be right," said De
Catinat, thoughtfully. " What would you
propose ? "

" That we ride back, and go by some less
direct way."

"It is impossible. We should haye to ride
back to Meudon cross roads, and then it
would add ten miles to our journey."

"It is better to get there an hour later than
not to get there at all."

" Pshaw I we are surely not to be turned
from our path by a mere guess. There is the

THE MIDNIGHT MISSION. 57

St. Germain cross-road about a mile below.
When we reach it w^e can strike to the right
along the south side of the river, and so
change our course."

^^But we may not reach it."

'' If any one bars our way we shall know
how to treat with them."

" You would fight, then ? "

.^^Yes."

" What ! with a dozen of them ? "

''A hundred, if we are on the king's
errand."

Amos Green shrugged his shoulders.

" You are surely not afraid ? "

" Yes, I am, mighty afraid. Fighting's good
enough when there's no help for it. But I
call it a fool's plan to ride straight into a trap
when you might go round it."

''You may do what you like," said De
Catinat angrily. ''My father was a gentle-
man, the owner of a thousand arpents of land,
and his son is not going to flinch in the king's
service."

58 THE REFUGEES.

'' My father/' answered Amos Green, '' was
a merchant, the owner of a thousand skunk-
skins, and his son knows a fool when he
sees one."

'' You are insolent, sir," cried the guards-
man. " We can settle this matter at some
more fitting opportunity. At present I con-
tinue my mission, and you are very welcome
to turn back to Versailles if you are so
inclined." He raised his hat with punctilious
politeness, sprang on to his horse, and rode
on down the road.

Amos Green hesitated a little, and then
mounting, he soon overtook his companion.
The latter, however, was still in no very sweet
temper, and rode with a rigid neck without a
glance or a word for his comrade. Suddenly
his eyes caught something in the gloom which
brought a smile back to his face. Away in
front of them, between two dark tree clumps,
lay a vast number of shimmering, glittering
yellow points, as thick as flowers in a garden.
They were the lights of Paris.

THE MIDNIGHT MISSION. 59

" See ! " he cried, pointing. " There is the
city, and close here must be the St. Germain
road. We shall take it, so as to avoid any
danger."

'' Very good ! But you should not ride
too fast, when your girth may break at
any moment."

'' Nay, come on ; we are close to our
Journey's end. The St. Germain road opens
just round this corner, and then we shall see
our way, for the lights will guide us."

He cut his horse with his whip, and they
galloped together round the curve. Xext
instant they were both down in one wild heap
of tossing heads and struggling hoofs, De
Catinat partly covered by his horse, and his
comrade hurled twenty paces, where he lay
silent and motionless in the centre of the
road.

CHAPTER XVI.

"WHEN THE DEYIL DRIVES."

Monsieur de Vivonne had laid his ambus-
cade with discretion. With a closed carriage
and a band of chosen ruffians he had left the
palace a good half-hour before the king's mes-
sengers and by the aid of his sister's gold he
had managed that their journey should not be
a very rapid one. On reaching the branch
road he had ordered the coachman to drive
some little distance along it, and had tethered
all the horses to a fence under his charge.
He had then stationed one of the band as a
sentinel some distance up the main highway
to flash a light when the two couriers were
approaching. A stout cord had been fastened
eighteen inches from the ground to the trunk
of a way-side sapling, and on receiving the

signal the other end was tied to a gate-post

(60)

''when the devil drives." 61

upon the further side. The two cavahers
could not possibly see it, coming as it did at
the very curve of the road, and as a conse-
quence their horses fell heavily to the ground,
and brought them down with them. In an
instant the dozen ruffians, who had lurked in
the shadow of the trees, sprang out upon
them, sword in hand ; but there was no move-
ment from either of their victims. De Catinat
lay breathing heavily, one leg under his horse's
neck, and the blood trickling in a thin stream
down his pale face, and falling, drop by drop
on to his silver shoulder-straps. Amos Green
was unwounded, but his injured girth had
given way in the fall, and he had been hurled
from his horse on to the hard road with a
violence which had driven every particle of
breath from his body.

Monsieur de Vivonne lit a lantern, and
flashed it upon the faces of the two uncon-
scious men. '' This is bad business. Major
Despard," said he to the man next him. " I
believe that they are both gone."

62 THE REFUGEES.

'' Tut ! tut I By my soul, men did not die
like that Avhen I was young ! " answered the
other, leaning forward his fierce grizzled face
into the light of the lantern. '' I've been cast
from my horse as often as there are tags to my
doublet, but, save for the snap of a bone or
two, I never had any harm from it. Pass your
rapier under the third rib of the horses, De la
Touche ; they will never be fit to set hoof to
ground again." Two sobbing gasps, and the
thud of their straining necks falling back to
earth told that the two steeds had come to the
end of their troubles.

'' Where is Latour ? " asked Monsieur de
Vivonne. '' Achille Latour has studied medi-
cine at Montpellier. Where is he ? "

'' Here I am, your excellency. It is not for
me to boast, l3ut I am as handy a man with a
lancet as with a rapier, and it was an evil day
for some sick folk when I first took to buff
and bandoher. Which would vou have me
look to ? "

'• This one in the road."

/'WHEX THE DEVIL DKIVES." 63

The trooper bent over Amos Green. " He
is not long for this world/' said he. '' I can
tell it bv the catch of his breath."

''And what is his injury?"

" A subluxation of the epigastrium. Ah,
the words of learning will still come to my
tongue, but it is hard to put into common
terms. Methinks that it were well for me to
pass my dagger through his throat, for his end
is verv near."

" Xot for your life ! " cried the leader. '' If
he die without wound, they cannot lay it to
our charge. Turn now to the other."

The man bent over De Catinat, and placed
his hand upon his heart. As he did so the
soldier heaved a long sigh, opened his eyes,
and gazed about him with the face of one
who knows neither where he is nor how he
came there. De Vivonne, who had drawn
his hat down over his eyes, and muffled the
lower pare of his face in his mantle, took out
his flask, and poured a little of the contents
down the injured man's throat. In an instant

1^'

64 THE REFUGEES.

a dash of colour had come back into the
guardsman's bloodless cheeks, and the light
of memory into his eyes. He struggled up
on to his feet, and strove furiously to push
away those who held him. But his head still
swam, and he could scarce hold himself
erect.

'' I must to Paris ! " he gasped ; '' I must
to Paris I It is the king's mission. You stop
me at your peril I "

" He has no hurt save a scratch," said the
ex-doctor.

'' Then hold him fast. And first carry the
dying man to the carriage."

The lantern threw but a small ring of
yellow light, so that when it had been carried
over to De Catinat, Amos Green was left
lying in the shadow. Xow thej^ brought the
light back to where the young man lay. But
there was no sign of him. He was gone.

For a moment the little group of ruffians
stood staring, the light of their lantern stream-
ing up upon their plumed hats, their fierce

''WHEN THE DEVIL DKIVES." 65

eyes, and savage faces. Then a burst of
oaths broke from them, and De Vivonne
caught the false doctor by the throat, and
hurhng him down, would have choked him
upon the spot, had the others not dragged
them apart.

'' You lying dog ! " he cried. '' Is this your
skill ? The man has fled, and we are ruined ! "

'' He has done it in his death-struggle,"
gasped the other, hoarsely, sitting up and
rubbing his throat. " I tell you that he was
in exti^emis. He cannot be far off!"

'' That is true. He cannot be far off," cried
De Vivonne. '' He has neither horse nor
arms. You, Despard and Raymond de Car-
nac, guard the other, that he play us no
trick. Do you, Latour, and you, Turberville,
ride down the road, and wait by the south
gate. If he enter Paris at all, he must come
in that way. If you get him, tie him before
you on your horse, and bring him to the
rendezvous. In any case, it matters little,
for he is a stranger, this fellow, and only here

VOL. IL 5

66 THE REFUGEES.

by chance. Now lead the other to the car-
riage, and we shall get away before an alarm
is given."

The two horsemen rode off in pursuit of
the fugitive, and De Catinat, still struggling
desperately to escape, was dragged down
the St. Germain road and thrust into the
carriage, which had waited at some distance
while these incidents were being enacted.
Three of the horsemen rode ahead, the coach-
man was curtlv ordered to follow them, and
De Vivonne, having despatched one of the
band with a note to his sister, followed after
the coach vrith the remainder of his despera-
does.

The unfortunate guardsman had now en-
tirelv recovered his senses, and found himself
with a strap round his ankles, and another
round his wrists, a captive inside a moving
prison which lumbered heavily along the
countrv road. He had been stunned bv the
shock of his fall, and his leg was badly
bruised by the weight of his horse ; but the

''when the devil drives." 67

cut on his forehead was a mere trifle, and the
bleeding had ah^eady ceased. His mind,
however, pained him more than his body.
He sank his head into his pinioned hands,
and stamped madly with his feet, rocking
himself to and fro in his despair. What a
fool, a treble fool, he had been ! He, an old
soldier, who had seen something of war, to
walk with open eyes into such a trap ! The
king had chosen him, of all men, as a trusty
messenger, and yet he had failed him — and
failed him so ignominiously, without shot fired
or sw^ord drawn. He was warned, too, warned
by a young man who knew nothing of court
intrigue, and who was guided only by the wits
which nature had given him. De Catinat
dashed himself down upon the leather cushion
in the agony of his thoughts.

But then came a return of that common-
sense which lies so very closely beneath the
impetuosity of the Celt. The matter was
done now, and he must see if it could not be
mended. Amos Green had escaped. That

68 THE REFUGEES.

was one grand point in his favour. And
Amos Green had heard the king's message,
and realised its importance. It was true that
he knew nothing of Paris, but surely a man
who could pick his way at night through the
for estsof Maine would not be baulked in
finding so well-known a house as that of the
Archbishop of Paris. But then there came
a sudden thought which turned De Catinat's
heart to lead. The city gates were locked at
eight o'clock in the evening. It was now
nearly nine. It would have been easy for
him, whose uniform was a voucher for his
message, to gain his way through. But how
could Amos Green, a foreigner and a civilian,
hope to pass ? It was impossible, clearly
impossible. And yet, somehow, in spite of
the impossibility, he still clung to a vague
hope that a man so full of energy and re-
source might find some way out of the diffi-
culty.

And then the thought of escape occurred
to his mind. Might he not even now be in

/'WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES.'' 69

time, perhaps, to carry his own message ?
Who were these men who had seized him ?
They had said nothing to give him a hint as
to whose tools thev were. Monsieur and the
Dauphin occurred to his mind. Probably one
or the other. He had only recognised one
of them, old Major Despard, a man who
frequented the low wine-shops of Versailles,
and whose sword was ever at the disposal of
the longest purse. And where were these
people taking him to ? It might be to his
death. But if they wished to do away with
him, why should they have brought him back
to consciousness ? and why this carriage and
drive ? Full of curiosity, he peered out of
the windows.

A horseman was riding close up on either
side ; but tlijere was glass in front of the
carriage, and through this he could gain some
idea as to hi* whereabouts. The clouds had
cleared now, and the moon was shining
brightly, bathing the whole wide landscape in
its shimmering light. To the right lay the

70 , THE REFUGEES.

open country, broad plains with clumps of
woodland, and the towers of castles pricking
out from above the groves. A heavy bell
was ringing in some monastery, and its dull
booming came and went with the breeze. On
the left, but far away, lay the glimmer of
Paris. They were leaving it rapidly behind.
Whatever his destination, it was neither the
capital nor Versailles. Then he began to
count the chances of escape. His sword had
been removed, and his pistols were still in the
holsters beside his unfortunate horse. He
was unarmed, then, even if he could free
himself, and his captors were at least a dozen
in number. There were three on ahead,
riding abreast along the white moonlit road.
Then there was one on each side, and he
should judge by the clatter of hoofs that
there could not be fewer than half a dozen
behind. That would make exactlv twelve,
including the coachman, too many, surely, for
an unarmed man to hope to baffle. At the
thought of the coachman he had glanced

''when the devil drives/' 71

through the glass front at the broad back of
the man, and he had suddenly, in the glimmer
of the carriage lamp, observed something
which struck him with horror.

The man was evidently desperately wounded.
It was strange indeed that he could still sit
there and flick his whip with so terrible an
injury. In the back of his great red coat,
just under the left shoulder-blade, was a gash
in the cloth, where some weapon had passed,
and all round was a wide patch of dark
scarlet which told its own tale. Nor was this
all. As he raised his whip, the moonlight
shone upon his hand, and De Catinat saw
with a shudder that it also was splashed and
clogged with blood. The guardsman craned
his neck to catch a glimpse of the man's face ;
but his broad-brimmed hat was drawn low,
and the high collar of his driving-coat was
raised, so that his features were in the
shadow. This silent man in front of him,
with the horrible marks upon his person, sent
a chill to De Catinat's valiant heart, and he

72 THE REFUGEES.

muttered over one of Marot's Huguenot
psalms ; for who but the foul fiend himself
would drive a coach with those crimsoned
hands and with a sword driven through his
body ?

And now they had come to a spot where
the main road ran onwards, but a smaller
side track wound away down the steep slope
of a hill, and so in the direction of the Seine.
The advance-guard had kept to the main
road, and the two horsemen on either side
were trotting in the same direction, when, to
De Catinat's amazement, the carriage sud-
denlv swerved to one side, and in an instant
plunged down the steep incline, the two stout
horses galloping at their topmost speed, the
coachman standing up and lashing furiously
at them, and the clumsy old vehicle bounding
along in a way which threw him backwards
and forwards from one seat to the other.
Behind him he could hear a shout of con-
sternation from the escort, and then the rush
of galloping hoofs. Away they flew, the road-

'"'when the devil drives." 73

side poplars dancing past at either window,
the horses thundering along with their sto-
machs to the earth, and that demon driver still
waving those horrible red hands in the moon-
light and screaming out to the maddened
steeds. Sometimes the carriage jolted one
way, sometimes another, swaying furiously,
and running on two side wheels as though
it must every instant go over. And yet, fast
as they went, their pursuers went faster still.
The rattle of their hoofs was at their very
backs, and suddenly at one of the windows
there came into view the red distended
nostrils of a horse. Slowlv it drew forward,
the muzzle, the eye, the ears, the mane,
coming into sight as the rider still gained
upon them, and then above them the fierce
face of De&pard and the gleam of a brass
pistol barrel.

'' At the horse, Despard, at the horse ! "
cried an authoritative voice from behind.

The pistol flashed, and the coach lurched
over as one of the horses gave a convulsive

74 THE REFUGEES.

spring. But the driver still shrieked and
lashed with his whip, while the carriage
bounded onwards.

But now the road turned a sudden curve,
and there, right in front of them, not a
hundred paces away, was the Seine, running
cold and still in the moonshine. The bank
on either side of the highway ran straight
down without any break to the water's edge.
There was no sign of a bridge, and. a black
shadow in the centre of the stream showed
where the ferry-boat was returning after
conveying some belated travellers across.
The driver never hesitated, but gathering
up the reins, he urged the frightened crea-
tures into the river. Thev hesitated, however,
when they first felt the cold water about their
hocks, and even as thev did so one of them,
with a low moan, fell over upon her side.
Despard's bullet had found its mark. Like
a flash the coachman hurled himself from the
box and plunged into the stream ; but the
pursuing horsemen were all round him be-

'' WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES." 75

fore this, and half a dozen hands had seized
him ere he could reach deep water, and had
dragged him to the bank. His broad hat
had been struck off in the struggle, and De
Catinat saw his face in the moonshine. Great
heavens ! It was Amos Green.

CHAPTER XVII.

THJ£ DUNGEON OF POKTILLAC.

The desperadoes were as much astonished as
was De Catinat when they found that they
had recaptured in this extraordinary manner
the messenger whom they had given up for
lost. A volley of oaths and exclamations
l^roke from them as, on tearing off the huge
red coat of the coachman, they disclosed the
sombre dress of the voung American.

" A thousand thunders !" cried one. '' And
this is the man whom that devil's brat Latour
would make out to be dead I "
'' And how came he here ? "
" And where is Etienne Arnaud ? "
'' He has stabbed Etienne. See the great
cut in the coat I "

'' Av ; and see the colour of his hand ! He

has stabbed him, and taken his coat and hat."

(76)

THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC. 11

" What ! while we were all withm stone's
cast ! "

'' Ay ; there is no other way out of it."

'' By my soul ! " cried old Despard, '' I had
never much love for old Etienne, but I have
emptied a cup of wine with him before now,
and I shall see that he has justice. Let us
cast these reins round the fellow's neck and
hang him upon this tree."

Several pairs of hands were already un-
buckling the harness of the dead horse, when
De Vivonne pushed his way into the little
group, and with a few curt words checked
their intended violence.

''It is as much as your lives are worth to
touch him," said he.

''But he has slain Etienne Arnaud."

" That score may be settled afterwards.
To-night he is the king's messenger. Is the
other all safe ? "

" Yes, he is here."

" Tie this man, and put him in beside him.
Unbuckle the traces of the dead horse. So !

78 THE EEFUGEES.

Now, De Cariiac, put your own into the
harness. You can mount the box and drive,
for we have not very far to go."

The changes were rapidly made ; Amos
Green was thrust in beside De Catinat, and
the carriage was soon toiHng up the steep
inchne which it had come down so precipi-
tatelv. The American had said not a word
since his capture, and had remained absolutely
stolid, with his hands crossed over his chest
whilst his fate was under discussion. Now
that he was alone once more with his com-
rade, however, he frowned and muttered like
a man who feels that fortune has used him
badly.

" Those infernal horses ! " he grumbled.
'' Whv, an American horse w^ould have taken
to the water like a duck. Many a time have
I swum my old stallion Sagamore across the
Hudson. Once over the river, we should
have had a clear lead to Paris."

" My dear friend," cried De Catinat, laying
his manacled hands upon those of his comrade,

THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC. 79

'' can you forgive me for speaking as I did
upon the way from Versailles ? "

'' Tut, man ! I never gave it a thought."
" You were right a thousand times, and I
was, as you said, a fool — a blind, obstinate
fool. How nobly you have stood by me !
But how came you there ? Never in my
life have I been so astonished as when I
saw your face."

Amos Green chuckled to himself. " I
thought that maybe it would be a surprise
to you if you knew who was driving you,"
said lie. " When I was thrown from my
horse I lay quiet, 23artly because I wanted to
get a grip of my breath, and partly because it
seemed to me to be more healthy to lie than
to stand with all those swords clinking in my
ears. Then they all got round you, and I
rolled into the ditch, crept along it, got on
the cross-road in the shadow of the trees,
and was beside the carriage before ever they
knew that I was gone. I saw in a flash that
there was only one way by which I could be

80 THE EEFUGEES.

of use to you. The coachman was leaning
round with his head turned to see what was
going on behind him. I out with my knife,
sprang up on the front wheel, and stopped
his tongue forever."

'' What I without a sound ! "

'' I have not lived among the Indians for
nothing."

^^And then?"

'' I pulled him down into the ditch, and I
got into his coat and his hat. I did not scalp
him."

'' Scalp him? Great heavens! Such things
are only done among savages."

''Ah ! I thought that maybe it was not the
custom of the country. I am glad now that
I did not do it. I had hardly got the reins
before they were all back and bundled you
into the coach. I was not afraid of their
seeing me, but I was scared lest I should
not know which road to take, and so set
them on the trail. But they made it easy
to me by sending some of their riders in front.

' THE DUXGEON OF PORTILLAC. 81

SO I did well until I saw that by-track and
made a run for it. We'd have got away,
too, if that rogue hadn't shot the horse, and
if the beasts had faced the water."

The guardsman again pressed his comrade's
hands. ''You have been as true to me as hilt
to blade," said he. " It was a bold thought
and a bold deed."

'' And what now ? " asked the American.

''I do not know who these men are, and I
do not know whither they are taking us."

" To their villages, likely, to burn us."

De Catinat laughed in spite of his anxiety.
^' You will have it that we are back in America
again," said he. " They don't do things in
that way in France."

" They seem free enough with hanging in
France. I tell you, I felt like a smoked-out
'coon when that trace Avas round my neck."

" I fancy that they are taking us to some
place where they can shut us up until this
business blows over."

'' Well, they'll need to be smart about it."

VOL. II. 6

82 THE REFUGEES.

" Why ? "

'' Else maybe they won't find us when they
want us."

'' What do you mean ? "

For answer, the American, with a twist and
a wriggle, drew his two hands apart, and held
them in front of his comrade's face.

" Bless you, it is the first thing they teach
the pappooses in an Indian wigwam. I've
got out of a Huron's thongs of rawhide before
now, and it ain't very likely that a stiff* stirrup
leather will hold me. Put your hands out."
With a few dexterous twists he loosened De
Catinat's bonds, until he also was able to slip
his hands free. " Now for your feet, if you'll
put them up. They'll find that we are easier
to catch than to hold."

But at that moment the carriage began to
slow down, and the clank of the hoofs of the
riders in front of them died suddenly away.
Peeping through the windows, the prisoners
saw a huge dark building stretching in front
of them, so high and so broad that the night

THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC. 83

shrouded it in upon every side. A great
archway hung above them, and the lamps
shone on the rude wooden gate, studded
with ponderous clamps and nails. In the
upper part of the door was a small square
iron grating, and through this they could
catch a glimpse of the gleam of a lantern and
of a bearded face which looked out at them.
De Vivonne, standing in his stirrups, craned
his head up towards the grating, so that the
two men most interested could hear little of
the conversation which followed. They saw
only that the horseman held a gold ring up
in the air, and that the face above, which had
begun by shaking and frowning, was now
nodding and smiling. An instant later the
head disappeared, the door swung open upon
screaming hinges, and the carriage drove on
into the courtyard beyond, leaving the escort,
with the exception of De Vivonne, outside.
As the horses pulled up, a knot of rough
fellow^s clustered round, and the two prisoners
were dragged roughly out. In the light of the

84 THE REFUGEES.

torches which flared around them they could
see that they were hemmed in by high tur-
reted walls upon every side. A bulky man
with a bearded face, the same whom they
had seen at the grating, was standing in the
centre of the group of armed men issuing his
orders.

" To the upper dungeon, Simon ! " he cried.
^^And see that they have two bundles of
straw and a loaf of bread until we learn our
master's will."

" I know not who your master may be/'
said De Catinat, ''but I would ask you by
what warrant he dares to stop two messengers
of the king w^hile travelling in his service ? "

'' By St. Denis, if my master play the king a
trick, it will be but tie and tie," the stout man
answered, with a grin. " But no more talk !
Away with them, Simon, and you answer to
me for their safe-keeping."

It was in vain that De Catinat raved and
threatened, invoking the most terrible men-
aces upon all who were concerned in detaining

THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC. 85

him. Two stout knaves thrusting him from
behind and one dragging in front forced him
through a narrow gate and along a stone-
flagged passage, a small man in black buckram
with a bunch of keys in one hand and a
swinging lantern in the other leading the
way. Their ankles had been so tied that they
could but take steps of a foot in length.
Shuffling along, they made their way down
three successive corridors and through three
doors, each of which was locked and barred
behind them. Then they ascended a winding
stone stair, hollowed out in the centre by the
feet of generations of prisoners and of jailers,
and finally they were thrust into a small
square dungeon, and two trasses of straw
were thrown in after them. An instant later
a heavy key turned in the lock, and they were
left to their own meditations.

Very grim and dark those meditations were
in the case of De Catinat. A stroke of good
luck had made him at court, and now this
other of ill fortune had destroyed him. It

86 THE REFUGEES.

would be in vain that he should plead his
own powerlessness. He knew his royal master
well. He was a man who was munificent
wdien his orders were obeyed, and inexorable
when they miscarried. No excuse availed
with him. An unluckv man was as abhorrent
to him as a negligent one. In this great
crisis the king had trusted him with an all-
important message, and that message had not
been dehvered. What could save him now
from disgrace and from ruin ? He cared
nothing for the dim dungeon in which he
found Jiimself, nor for the uncertain fate which
hung over his head, but his heart turned to
lead when he thought of his blasted career,
and of the triumph of those whose jealousy
had been aroused by his rapid promotion.
There were his people in Paris, too — his sweet
Adele, his old uncle, who had been as good as
a father to him. What protector would they
have in their troubles now that he had lost
the power that might have shielded them?
How long would it be before they were

THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC. 87

exposed once more to the brutalities of Dal-
bert and his dragoons ? He clenched his
teeth at the thought, and threw himself down
with a groan upon the litter of straw dimly
visible in the faint light which streamed
through the single window.

But his energetic comrade had yielded to no
feeling of despondency. The instant that the
clang of the prison door had assured him that
he was safe from interruption he had slipped
off the bonds which held him and had felt
all round the walls and flooring to see what
manner of place this might be. His search
had ended in the discovery of a small fireplace
at one corner, and of two great clumsy billets
of wood, which seemed to have been left there
to serve as pillows for the prisoners. Having
satisfied himself that the chimney was so
small that it was utterly impossible to pass
even his head up it, he drew the two blocks of
wood over to the window, and was able, by
placing one above the other and standing on
tiptoe on the highest, to reach the bars which

88 THE REFUGEES.

guarded it. Drawing himself up, and fixing
one toe in an inequality of the wall, he
managed to look out on to the court-yard
which they had just quitted. The carriage
and De Vivonne were passing out through the
gate as he looked, and he heard a moment
later the slam of the heavy door and the
clatter of hoofs from the troop of horsemen
outside. The seneschal and his retainers had
disappeared ; the torches, too, were gone, and,
save for the measured tread of a pair of
sentinels in the vard twentv feet beneath him,
all was silent throughout the great castle.

And a very great castle it was. Even as he
hung there with straining hands his eyes were
running in admiration and amazement over
the huge wall in front of him, with its fringe
of turrets and pinnacles and battlements all
lying so still and cold in the moonlight.
Strange thoughts will slip into a man's head
at the most unlikely moments. He remem-
bered suddenly a bright summer day over the
water when first he had come down from

THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC. 89

Albany, and how his father had met him on
the wharf by the Hudson, and had taken him
through the water-gate to see Peter Stuy-
vesant's house, as a sign of how great this city
was which had passed from the Dutch to
the EngHsh. Why, Peter Stuyvesant's house
and Peter Stuyvesant's Bowery villa put to-
gether would not make one wing of this huge
pile, which was itself a mere dog-kennel
beside the mighty palace at Versailles. He
would that his father were here now ; and
then, on second thoughts, he would not, for it
came back to him that he was a prisoner in
a far land, and that his sight-seeing was being
done through the bars of a dungeon window.

The window w^as large enough to pass his
body through if it were not for those bars.
He shook them and hung his weight upon
them, but they were as thick as his thumb
and firmly welded. Then, getting some strong
hold for his other foot, he supported himself
by one hand while he picked with his knife
at the setting of the iron. It was cement,

90 THE REFUGEES.

as smooth as glass and as hard as marble.
His knife turned when he tried to loosen it.
But there was still the stone. It was sand-
stone, not so very hard. If he could cut
grooves in it, he might be able to draw out
bars, cement, and all. He sprang down to
the floor again, and was thinking how he
should best set to work, when a groan drew
his attention to his companion.

'' You seem sick, friend," said he.

'' Sick in mind," moaned the other. '' Oh,
the cursed fool that I have been! It maddens
me!"

" Something on your mind ? " said Amos
Green, sitting down upon his billets of wood.
^^ What was it, then?"

The guardsman made a movement of im-
patience. '' What was it ? How can you ask
me, when you know as well as I do the
wretched failure of mv mission. It was the
king's wish that the archbishop should marry
them. The king's wish is the law. It must
be the archbishop or none. He should have

THE DUNGEON OF PORTILLAC. 91

been at the palace by now. Ah, my God ! I
can see the king's cabinet, I can see him
waiting, I can see madame waiting, I can hear

them speak of the unhappy De Catinat "

He buried his face in his hands once more.

'' I see all that," said the American, stolidly,
''and I see something more."

" What, then ? "

'' I see the archbishop tying them up to-
gether."

'' The archbishop ! You are raving."

'' Maybe. But I see him."

'' He could not be at the palace."

'' On the contrary, he reached the palace
about half an hour ago."

De Catinat sprang to his feet. '' At the
palace ! " he screamed. " Then who gave him
the message ? "

'' I did," said Amos Green.

CHAPTEE XVIII.

A NIGHT OF SURPKISES.

If the American had expected to surprise or
delight his companion by this curt announce-
ment he was woefully disappointed, for De
Catinat approached him with a face which
was full of sympathy and trouble, and laid his
hand caressingly upon his shoulder.

''My dear friend," said he, ''I have been
selfish and thoughtless. I have made too much
of mv own little troubles and too little of what
you have gone through for me. That fall
from your horse has shaken you more than
you think. Lie down upon this straw, and
see if a little sleep may not "

" I tell you that the bishop is there ! " cried
Amos Green, impatiently.

" Quite so. There is water in this jug, and

(92)

A NIGHT OF SUHPRISES. 93

if I clip my scarf into it and tie it round vour
brow "

''Man alive I Don't you hear me! The
bishop is there/'

'' He is, he is/' said De Catinat, soothingly.
*' He is most certainly there. I trust that
you have no pain ? "

The American waved in the air with his
knotted fists. ''You think that I'm crazed/'
he cried, " and, by the eternal, you are enough
to make me so 1 When I say that I sent the
bishop, I mean that I saw to the job. You
remember when I stepped back to your friend
the major ? "

It was the soldier's turn to grow excited now.
" Well ? " he cried, gripping the other's arm.

" Well, when we send a scout into the
woods, if the matter is worth it, we send a
second one at another hour, and so one or
other comes back with his hair on. That's
the Iroquois fashion, and a good fashion too."

" My God ! I believe that you have saved
me ! "

94 THE REFUGEES.

'' You needn't grip on to my arm like a fish-
eagle on a trout ! I went back to the major,
then, and I asked him when he was in Paris
to pass by the archbishop's door."

" Well ? Well ? "

'' I showed him this lump of chalk. ' If
we've been there,' said I, ' you'll see a great
cross on the left side of the door-post. If
there's no cross, then pull the latch and ask
the bishop if he'll come up to the palace as
quick as his horses can bring him.' The
major started an hour after us ; he would
be in Paris by half past ten ; the bishop
would be in his carriage by eleven, and he
w^ould reach Versailles half an hour ago, that
is to say, about half past twelve. By the
Lord, I think I've driven him off his head ! "

It was no wonder that the young woods-
man was alarmed at the effect of his own
announcement. His slow and steady nature
was incapable of the quick, violent variations
of the fiery Frenchman. De Catinat, who
had thrown off his bonds before he had lain

A NIGHT OF SUEPRISES. 95

down; spun round the cell now, waving his
arms and his legs, with his shadow capering
up the wall behind him, all distorted in the
moonlight. Finally he threw himself into
his comrade's arms with a torrent of thanks
and ejaculations and praises and promises,
patting him with his hands and hugging him
to his breast.

" Oh, if I could but do something for you ! "
he exclaimed. '' If I could do something for

vou ! "

t/

" You can, then. Lie down on that straw
and go to sleep."

''And to think that I sneered at you! II
Oh, you have had your revenge ! "

" For the Lord's sake, lie down and go to
sleep I " By persuasions and a little pushing
he got his delighted companion on to his
couch again, and heaped the straw over him
to serve as a blanket. De Catinat was
wearied out by the excitements of the day^
and this last great reaction seemed to have
absorbed all his remaining strength. His lids

96 THE REFCGEES.

drooped heavily over his eyes, his head sank
deeper into the soft straw, and his last re-
membrance was that the tireless American
was seated cross-legged in the moonlight,
working furiously with his long knife upon
one of the billets of wood.

So weary was the young guardsman that
it was long past noon, and the sun was
shining out of a cloudless blue sky, before
he awoke. For a moment, enveloped as he
was in straw, and with the rude arch of the
dungeon meeting in four rough-hewn groin-
ings above his head, he stared about him in
bewilderment. Then in an instant the doino;s
of the day before, his mission, the ambuscade,
his imprisonment, all flashed back to him,
and he sprang to his feet. His comrade,
who had been dozing in the corner, jumped
up also at the first movement, with his hand
on his knife, and a sinister glance directed
towards the door.

'' Oh, it's you, is it ? " said he. " I thought
it was the man."

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. 97

'' Has some one been in, then ? "

'' Yes ; they brought those two loaves and
a jug of water, just about dawn, when I was
settHng down for a rest."

'' And did he say anything ? "

'' No ; it was the little black one."

" Simon, they called him."

'' The same. He laid the things down and
was gone. I thought that maybe if he came
again we might get him to stop."

^^How, then?"

'' Maybe if we got these stirrup leathers
round his ankles he would not get them off
quite as easy as we have done."

" And what then ? "

'' Well, he would tell us where w^e are, and
what is to be done with us."

'' Pshaw ! what does it matter, since our
mission is done ? "

''It may not matter to you— there's no
accounting for tastes — but it matters a good
deal to me. I'm not used to sitting in a hole,
like a bear in a trap, waiting for what other

VOL. II. 7

98 THE REFUGEES.

folks choose to do with me. It's new to me.
I found Paris a pretty close sort of place, but
it's a prairie compared to this. It don't suit
a man of my habits, and I am going to come
out of it."

" There's no help but patience, my friend."
" I don't know that. I'd get more help out
of a bar and a few pegs." He opened his
coat, and took out a short piece of rusted
iron, and three small thick pieces of wood,
sharpened at one end.

" Where did you get those, then ? "
^' These are my night's work. The bar is
the top one of the grate. I had a job to
loosen it, but there it is. The pegs I whittled
out of that log."

" And what are they for ? "
" Well, you see, peg number one goes in
here, where I have picked a hole between
the stones. Then I've made this other log
into a mallet, and with two cracks there it
is firm fixed, so that you can put your weight
on it. Now these two go in the same way

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. 99

into the holes above here. So ! Now, you
see, you can stand up there and look out of
that window without asking too much of
your toe joint. Try it."

De Catinat sprang up and looked eagerly
out between the bars.

'' I do not know the place," said he, shaking
his head. '' It may be any one of thirty
castles which lie upon the south side of Paris,
and within six or seven leagues of it. Which
can it be ? And who has any interest in
treating us so ? I would that I could see
a coat of arms, which might help us. Ah !
there is one yonder in the centre of the
mullion of the window. But I can scarce
read it at the distance. I warrant that your
eyes are better than mine, Amos, and that
you can read what is on yonder escutcheon."

" On what ? "

" On the stone slab in the centre window."

" Yes, I see it plain enough. It looks to
me like three turkey-buzzards sitting on a
barrel of molasses."

100 THE REFUGEES.

'' Three allurions in chief over a tower
proper, maybe. Those are the arms of the
Provence De Hautevilles. But it cannot be
that. They have no chateau within a hun-
dred leagues. No, I cannot tell where we
are."

He was dropping back to the floor, and
put his weight upon the bar. To his amaze-
ment, it came away in his hand.

'' Look, Amos, look ! " he cried.

" Ah, youVe found it out ! Well, I did
that during the night."

'' And how ? With your knife ? "

'' Xo ; I could make no w^ay with my knife ;
but when I got the bar out of the grate, I
managed faster. I'll put this one back now,
or some of those folks down below may
notice that we have got it loose."

'' Are they all loose ? "

" Only the one at present, but well get the
other two out during the night. You can
take that bar out and work with it, w^hile I
use my own picker at the other. You see.

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. 101

the stone is soft, and by grinding it you soon
make a grove along which you can slip the
bar. It will be mighty queer if we can't
clear a road for ourselves before morning."

''Well, but even if we could get out into
the court-yard, where could we turn to then?"

" One thing at a time, friend. You might
as w^ell stick at the Kennebec because you
could not see how you would cross the Penob-
scot. Anyway, there is more air in the yard
than in here, and when the window is clear
we shall soon plan out the rest."

The two comrades did not dare to do any
work during the day, for fear they should be
surprised by the jailer, or observed from
without. No one came near them, but they
ate their loaves and drank their water with
the appetite of men who had often known
what it was to be without even such simple
food as that. The instant that night fell they
were both up upon the pegs, grinding away
at the hard stone and tugging at the bars.
It was a rainy night, and there was a sharp

102 THE REFUGEES.

thunder-storm, but they could see very well,
while the shadow of the arched window pre-
vented their being seen. Before midnight
they had loosened one bar, and the other
was just beginning to give, when some slight
noise made them turn their heads, and there
was their jailer standing, open-mouthed, in
the middle of the cell, staring up at them.

It was De Catinat who observed him first,
and he sprang down at him in an instant with
his bar ; but at his movement the man rushed
for the door, and drew it after him just as the
American's tool whizzed past his ear and
down the passage. As the door slammed, the
two comrades looked at each other. The
guardsman shrugged his shoulders and the
other whistled.

''It is scarce worth while to go on," said
De Catinat.

" We may as well be doing that as anything
else. If my picker had been an inch lower
I'd have had him. Well, maybe he'll get a
stroke, or break his neck down those stairs.

A NIGHT OF SURPKISES. 103

I've nothing to work with now, but a few
rubs with your bar will finish the job. Ah,
dear ! You are right, and we are fairly
treed ! "

A great bell had begun to ring in the
chateau, and there was a loud buzz of voices
and a clatter of feet upon the stones. Hoarse
orders were shouted, and there was the sound
of turning keys. All this coming suddenly in
the midst of the stillness of the night showed
only too certainly that the alarm had been
given. Amos Green threw himself down in
the straw, with his hands in his pockets, and
De Catinat leaned sulkily against the wall,
waiting for whatever might come to him.
Five minutes passed, how^ever, and yet
another five minutes, without any one ap-
pearing. The hubbub in the court -yard
continued, but there was no sound in the
corridor which led to their cell.

'' Well, I'll have that bar out, after all," said
the American at last, rising and stepping over
to the window. " Anyhow, we'll see what all

104 . . THE REFUGEES.

this caterwauling is about." He climbed up
on his pegs as he spoke, and peeped out.

'^Come up!" he cried excitedly to his
comrade. " They've got some other game
going on here, and they are all a deal too
busy to bother their heads about us."

De Catinat clambered up beside him, and
the two stood staring down into the court-
yard. A brazier had been lit at each corner,
and the place was thronged with men, many
of whom carried torches. The yellow glare
played fitfully over the grim gray walls, flicker-
ing up sometimes until the highest turrets
shone golden against the black sky, and then,
as the wind caught them, dying away until
they scarce threw a glow upon the cheek of
their bearer. The main gate was open, and a
carriage, which had apparently just driven in,
was standing at a small door immediately in
front of their window. The wheels and sides
were brown with mud, and the two horses
were reeking and heavy-headed, as though their
journey had been both swift and long. A

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. 105

man wearing a plumed hat and enveloped in
a riding-coat had stepped from the carriage,
and then, turning round, had dragged a
second person out after him. There was a
scuffle, a cry, a push, and the two figures had
vanished through the door. As it closed, the
carriage drove away, the torches and braziers
were extinguished, the main gate was closed
once more, and all was as quiet as before this
sudden interruption.

^^Well!" gasped De Catinat. ^^s this
another king's messenger they've got ? "

'' There will be lodgings for two more here
in a short time," said Amos Green. '' If they
only leave us alone, this cell won't hold us
long."

'' I wonder where that jailer has gone ? "

''He may .go where he likes, as long as he
keeps away from here. Give me your bar
again. This thing is giving. It won't take
us long to have it out." He set to work
furiously, trying to deepen the groove in the
stone, through which he hoped to drag the

106 THE REFUGEES.

staple. Suddenly he ceased, and strained his
ears.

'' By thunder I " said he, '' there's some one
working on the other side."

They both stood Hstening. There were the
thud of hammers, the rasping of a saw, and
the clatter of wood from the other side of
the wall.

" What can they be doing ? "

^ a can't think."

'' Can you see them ? "

" They are too near the wall."

" I think I can manage," said De Catinat.
^'I am slighter than you." He pushed his
head and neck and half of one shoulder
through the gap between the bars, and there
he remained until his friend thought that
perhaps he had stuck, and pulled at his legs
to extricate him. He writhed back, however,
without any difficulty.

'' They are building something," he whis-
pered.

" Building ! "

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. 107

'' Yes ; there are four of them, with a
lantern."

'' What can they be building, then ? "

'' It's a shed, I think. I can see four
sockets in the ground, and they are fixing
four uprights into them."

'' Wei], we can't get away as long as there
are four men just under our window."

" Impossible."

'' But we may as well finish our work, for
all that."

The gentle scrapings of his iron were drowned
amid the noise which swelled ever louder
from without. The bar loosened at the end,
and he drew it slowly towards him. At that
instant, however, just as he was disengaging
it, a round head appeared between him and
the moonlight, a head with a great shock of
tangled hair, and a woollen cap upon the top
of it. So astonished was Amos Green at the
sudden apparition that he let go his grip upon
the bar, which, falling outwards, toppled over
the edge of the window-sill.

108 THE REFUGEES.

'' You great fool ! " shrieked a voice from
below, ''are your fingers ever to be thumbs,
then, that you should fumble your tools so ?
A thousand thunders of heaven ! You have
broken my shoulder."

" What is it, then ? " cried the other. " My
faith, Pierre, if your fingers went as fast as
your tongue, you would be the first joiner in
France."

" What is it, you ape I You have dropped
your tool upon me."

'' I ! I have dropped nothing."

" Idiot ! Would you have me believe that
iron falls from the sky? I say that you have
struck me, you foolish, clumsy-fingered lout."

" I have not struck you yet," cried the
other, " but, by the Virgin, if I have more of
this I will come down the ladder to you I "

" Silence, you good-for-naughts ! " said a
third voice, sternly. " If the work be not
done by daybreak, there will be a heavy
reckoning for somebody."

And again the steady hammering and saw-

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. 109

ing went forward. The head still passed and
repassed, its owner walking apparently upon
some platform which they had constructed
beneath their window, but never giving a
glance or a thought to the black square open-
ing beside him. It was early morning, and
the first cold light was beginning to steal over
the court-yard, before the work was at last
finished and the workmen had left. Then at
last the prisoners dared to climb up and to see
what it was which had been constructed
during the night. It gave them a catch of
the breath as they looked at it. It was a
scaffold.

There it lay, the ill-omened platform of
dark greasy boards newly fastened together,
but evidently used often before for the same
purpose. It .was buttressed up against their
wall, and extended a clear twenty feet out,
with a broad wooden stair leading down from
the further side. In the centre stood a heads-
man's block, all haggled at the top, and
smeared with rust-coloured stains.

110 THE EEFUGEES.

" I think it is time that we left," said Amos
Green.

'' Our work is all in vain, Amos," said De
Catinat, sadly. '' Whatever our fate may be —
and this looks ill enough — we can but submit
to it like brave men."

'' Tut, man ; the window is clear ! Let us
make a rush for it."

''It is useless. I can see a line of armed
men along the further side of the yard."

" A line : At this hour ! "

" Yes ; and here come more. See, at the
centre gate ! Now what in the name of
heaven is this ? "

As he spoke the door which faced them
opened, and a singular procession filed out.
First came two dozen footmen, walking in
pairs, all carrying halberds, and clad in the
same maroon-coloured liveries. After them
a huge bearded man, with his tunic oflF, and
the sleeves of his coarse shirt rolled up over
his elbows, strode along with a great axe over
his left shoulder. Behind him, a priest with

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. Ill

an open missal pattered forth prayers, and in
his shadow was a woman, clad in black, her
neck bared, and a black shawl cast over her
head and drooping in front of her bowed face.
Within grip of her walked a tall, thin, tierce -
faced man, with harsh red features, and a
great jutting nose. He wore a flat velvet cap
with a single eagle feather fastened into it
by a diamond clasp, which gleamed in the
morning light. But bright as was his gem,
his dark eyes were brighter still, and sparkled
from under his bushy brows with a mad
brilliancy which bore with it something of
menace and of terror. His limbs jerked as
he walked, his features twisted, and he carried
himself like a man who strives hard to hold
himself in when his whole soul is aflame with
exultation. Behind him again twelve more
maroon-clad retainers brought up the rear of
this singular procession.

The woman had faltered at the foot of the
scaffold, but the man behind her had thrust
her forward with such force that she stumbled

112 THE REFUGEES.

over the lower step, and would have fallen
had she not clutched at the arm of the priest.
At the top of the ladder her eyes met the
dreadful block, and she burst into a scream,
and shrunk backwards. But again the man
thrust her on, and two of the followers caught
her by either wrist and dragged her forwards.

'' Oh, Maurice ! Maurice ! " she screamed.
'' I am not fit to die ! Oh, forgive me,
Maurice, as you hope for forgiveness yourself !
Maurice ! Maurice ! " She strove to get to-
wards him, to clutch at his wrist, at his sleeve,
but he stood wdtli his hand on his sword,
gazing at her wdth a face which was all
wreathed and contorted with merriment. At
the sight of that dreadful mocking face the
prayers froze upon her lips. As well pray for
mercy to the dropping stone or to the rushing
stream. She turned awav, and threw back
the mantle which had shrouded her features.

'' Ah, sire I " she cried. Sire ! If you could
see me now ! "

And at the cry and at the sight of that

A NIGHT OF SURPRISES. 113

fair pale face, De Catinat, looking down from
the window, was stricken as though by a
dagger ; for there standing beside the heads-
man's block was she who had been the most
powerful, as well as the wittiest and the
fairest, of the women of France — none other
than Franfoise de Montespan, so lately the
favourite of the king.

VOL. II. 8

CHAPTER XIX.

IN THE KING'S CABINET.

On the night upon which such strange
chances had befallen his messengers, the king
sat alone in his cabinet. Over his head a
perfumed lamp, held up by four little flying
Cupids of crystal, who dangled by golden
chains from the painted ceiling, cast a brilliant
light upon the chamber, which was flashed
back twenty-fold by the mirrors upon the
wall. The ebony and silver furniture, the
dainty carpet of La Savonniere, the silks of
Tours, the tapestries of the Gobelins, the gold-
work and the delicate china-ware of Sevres —
the best of all that France could produce was
centred between these four walls. Nothing
had ever passed through that door which was
not a masterpiece of its kind. And amid all

this brilliance the master of it sat, his chin

(lU)

IN THE KING S CABINET. 1 1 5

resting upon his hands, his elbows upon the
table, with eyes which stared vacantly at the
wall, a moody and a solemn man.

But though his dark eyes were fixed upon
the wall, they saw nothing of it. They looked
rather down the long vista of his own life,
away to those early years when what we
dream and what we do shade so mistilv into
one another. Was it a dream or was it a
fact, those two men who used to stoop over
his baby crib, the one with the dark coat and
the star upon his breast, whom he had been
taught to call father, and the other one with
the long red gown and the little twinkling
eyes ? Even now, after more than forty
years, that wicked, astute, powerful face
flashed up, and he saw once more old
Richelieu, the great unanointed king of
France. And then that other cardinal, the
long lean one who had taken his pocket-
money, and had grudged him his food, and had
dressed him in old clothes. How well he
could recall the day when Mazarin had

116 THE REFUGEES.

rouged himself for the last time, and how the
cornet had danced with joy at the news that he
was no more ! And his mother, too, how
beautiful she was, and how masterful I Could
he not remember how bravely she had borne
herself during that war in which the power of
the great nobles had been broken, and how
she had at last lain down to die, imploring the
priests not to stain her cap-strings with their
holy oils ! And then he thought of what he
had done himself, how he had shorn down his
great subjects until, instead of being like a
tree among saplings, he had been alone, far
above all others, with his shadow covering the
whole land. Then there were his wars and
his laws and his treaties. Under his care
France had overflowed her frontiers both on
the north and on the east, and yet had been
so welded together internally that she had but
one voice, with which she spoke through him.
And then there was that line of beautiful
faces which wavered up in front of him.
There was Olympe de Mancini, whose Italian

IN THE king's cabinet. 117

eyes had first taught him that there is a
power which can rule over a king ; her sister,
too, Marie de Mancini ; his wife, with her
dark little sunbrowned face ; Henrietta of
England, whose death had first shown him
the horrors which lie in life ; La Valliere,
Montespan, Fontanges. Some were dead ;
some were in convents. Some who had been
wicked and beautiful were now only wicked.
And what had been the outcome of all this
troubled, striving life of his ? He was already
at the outer verge of his middle years ; he
had lost his taste for the pleasures of his
youth ; gout and vertigo were ever at his foot
and at his head to remind him that between
them lay a kingdom which he could not hope
to govern. And after all these years he had
not won a single true friend, not one, in his
family, in his court, in his country, save only
this woman whom he was to wed that night.
And she, how patient she was, how good, how
lofty ! With her he might hope to wipe off" by
the true glory of his remaining years all the

118 THE REFUGEES.

sin and the folly of the past. Would that the
archbishop might come, that he might feel
that she was indeed his, that he held her with
hooks of steel which would bind them as long
as life should last !

There came a tap at the door. He sprang
up eagerly, thinking that the ecclesiastic
might have arrived. It was, however, only
his personal attendant, to say that Louvois
would crave an interview. Close at his heels
came the minister himself, high-nosed and
heavy-chinned. Two leather bags were dan-
gling from his hand.

'' Sire," said he, when Bontems had retired,
'' I trust that I do not intrude upon you."

'' No, no, Louvois. My thoughts were in
truth beginning to be very indifferent com-
pany, and I am glad to be rid of them."

'' Your Majesty's thoughts can never, I am
sure, be anything but pleasant," said the
courtier. " But I have brought you here
something which I trust may make them even
more so."

IN THE king's cabinet. 119

" Ah ! What is that ? "

^' When so many of our joung nobles went
into Germany and Hmigary, you were pleased
in your wisdom to say that you would like
well to see what reports they sent home to
their friends ; also what news was sent out
from the court to them."

^^Yes."

" I have them here — all that the courier has
brought in, and all that are gathered to go
out, each in its own bag. The wax has been
softened in spirit, the fastenings have been
steamed, and they are now open."

The king took out a handful of the letters
and glanced at the addresses.

'' I should indeed like to read the hearts of
these people," said he. '' Thus only can I tell
the true thoughts of those who bow and
simper before my face. I suppose," with a
sudden flash of suspicion from his eyes, " that
you have not yourself looked into these ? "

'' Oh, sire, I had rather die !"

" You swear it ? "

120 THE EEFUGEES.

'' As I hope for salvation ! "

" Hum ! There is one among these which
I see is from your own son."

Louvois changed colour, and stammered as
he looked at the envelope. '' Your Majesty
will find that he is as loyal out of your presence
as in it, else he is no son of mine/' said he.

" Then we shall begin with his. Ha ! it is
but ten lines long. 'Dearest Achille, how I
long for you to come back ! The court is as
dull as a cloister now that you are gone. My
ridiculous father still struts about like a
turkey-cock, as if all his medals and crosses
could cover the fact that he is but a head
lackey, with no more real power than I have.
He wheedles a good deal out of the king,
but what he does with it I cannot imagine,
for little comes my way. I still owe those ten
thousand livres to the man in the Eue Orfevre.
Unless I have some luck at lansquenet, I shall
have to come out soon and join you.' Hem !
I did you an injustice, Louvois. I see that
you have 7iot looked over these letters."

IN THE king's cabinet. 121

The minister had sat with a face which was
the colour of beet root, and eyes which pro-
jected from his head, while this epistle was
being read. It was with relief that he came
to the end of it, for at least there was nothing
which compromised him seriously with the
king ; but every nerve in his great body
tingled with rage as he thought of the way in
which his young scapegrace had alluded to
him. " The viper ! " he cried. '' Oh, the foul
snake in the grass ! I will make him curse
the day that he was born."

'' Tut, tut, Louvois ! " said the king. '' You
are a man who has seen much of life, and you
should be a philosopher. Hot-headed youth
says ever more than it means. Think no
more of the matter. But what have we here ?
A letter from my dearest girl to her husband,
the Prince de Conti. I would pick her writ-
ing out of a thousand. Ah, dear soul, she
little thought that my eyes would see her
artless prattle ! Why should I read it, since
I already know every thought of her innocent

122 THE EEFUGEES.

heart ? " He unfolded the sheet of pink
scented paper with a fond smile upon his face,
but it faded away as his eyes glanced down
the page, and he sprang to his feet with a
snarl of anger, his hand over his heart and
his eyes still glued to the paper. " Minx ! "
he cried, in a choking voice. '' Impertinent,
heartless minx ! Louvois, vou know what I
have done for the princess. You know that
she has been the apple of my eye. What
have I ever grudged her ? What have I ever
denied her ? "

'' You have been goodness itself, sire," said
Louvois, whose own wounds smarted less now
that he saw his master writhing.

'' Hear what she says of me : ' Old Father
Grumpy is much as usual, save that he gives
a little at the knees. You remember how we
used to laugh at his airs and graces ! Well,
he has given ujo all that, and though he still
struts about on great high heels, like a Landes
peasant on his stilts, he has no brightness at
all in his clothes. Of course, all the court

IN THE king's cabinet. 123

follow his example, so you can imagine what
a nightmare-place this is. Then this woman
still keei3S in favour, and her frocks are as
dismal as Grumpy's coats ; so when you come
back we shall go into the country together,
and you shall dress in red velvet, and I shall
wear blue silk, and we shall have a little
coloured court of our own in spite of my
majestic papa.' '

Louis sank his face in his hands.

*' You hear how she speaks of me, Louvois."

^' It is infamous, sire ; infamous ! ''

'' She calls me names — ine, Louvois ! "

^^ Atrocious, sire."

'' And my knees ! One would think that I
was an old man I "

" Scandalous. But, sire, I would beg to
say that it is a case in w^hich your majesty's
philosophy may well soften your anger. Youth
is ever hot-headed, and says more than it
means. Think no more of the matter."

'' You speak like a fool, Louvois. The child
that I ijave loved turns upon me, and you ask

124 THE REFUGEES.

me to think no more of it. Ah, it is one more
lesson that a king can trust least of all those
who have his own blood in their veins. What
writing is this ? It is the good Cardinal de
Bouillon. One may not have faith in one's
own kin, but this sainted man loves me, not
only because I have placed him where he is,
but because it is his nature to look up and to
love those whom God has placed above him.
I will read you his letter, Louvois, to show
you that there is still such a thing as loyalty
and gratitude in France. ' My dear Prince
de la Roche-sur-Yon.' Ah, it is to him he
writes. ' I promised when you left that I
would let you know from time to time how
things were going at court, as you consulted
me about bringing your daughter up from An-
jou, in the hope that she might catch the
king's fancy.' What ! What ! Louvois I
What villany is this ? ' The sultan goes from
bad to worse. The Fontanges was at least
the prettiest woman in France, though be-
tween ourselves there was just a shade too

IN THE KINGS CABINET. 125

much of the red in her hair — an excellent
colour in a cardinal's gown, my dear duke,
but nothing brighter than chestnut is per-
missible in a lady. The Montespan, too, was
a fine woman in her day, but fancy his picking
up now with a widow who is older than
himself, a woman, too, who does not even try
to make herself attractive, but kneels at her
prie-dieu or works at her tapestry from morn-
ing to night. They say that December and
May make a bad match, but my own opinion
is that tw^o Novembers make an even worse
one.' Louvois ! Louvois ! I can read no
more ! Have you a lettre de cachet ? "

''There is one here, sire."

" For the Bastille ? "

'' No ; for Vincennes."

'' That will do very well. Fill it up, Lou-
vois ! Put this villain's name in it ! Let him
be arrested to-night, and taken there in his
own caleche. The shameless, ungrateful,
foul-mouthed villain ! Why did you bring
me these letters, Louvois ? Oh, why did you

126 THE REFUGEES.

yield to my foolish whim ? My God, is there
no truth, or honom% or loyalty in the world ! "
He stamped his feet, and shook his clenched
hands in the air in the frenzy of his anger and
disappointment.

'' Shall I, then, put back the others ? " asked
Louvois, eagerly. He had been on thorns
since the king had begun to read them,
not knowing what disclosures might come
next.

'' Put them back, but keep the bag."

" Both bags ? "

'' Ah I I had forgot the other one. Perhaps

if I have hypocrites around me, I have at least

some honest subjects at a distance. Let us

take one haphazard. Who is this from ? Ah !

it is from the Due de la Rochefoucauld. He

has ever seemed to be a modest and dutiful

young man. What has he to say ? The

Danube — Belgrade — the grand vizier

Ah ! " He gave a cry as if he had been

stabbed.

'' What, then, sire ? " The minister had

IN THE king's cabinet. 127

taken a step forward, for he was frightened
by the expression upon the king's face.

'' Take them away, Louvois ! Take them
away I " he cried, pushing the pile of papers
away from him. ''I would that I had never
seen them ! I will look at them no more I
He gibes even at my courage, I who was in
the trenches when he was in his cradle I
' This war would not suit the king,' he says.
' For there are battles, and none of the nice
little safe sieges which are so dear to him.'
By God, he shall pay to me with his head for
that jest I Ay, Louvois, it will be a dear gibe
to him. But take them away. I have seen as
much as I can bear."

The minister was thrusting them back into
the bag when suddenly his eye caught the
bold, clear writing of Madame de Maintenon
upon one of the letters. Some demon whis-
pered to him that here was a weapon which
had been placed in his hands, with which
he might strike one whose very name filled
him with jealousy and hatred. Had she been

128 THE REFUGEES.

guilty of some indiscretion in this note, then
he might even now, at this last hour, turn
the king's heart against her. He was an
astute man, and in an instant he had seen
his chance and grasped it.

''Ha!" said he, ''it was hardly necessary
to open this one."

" Which, Louvois ? Whose is it ? "
The minister pushed forward the letter,
and Louis started as his eyes fell upon it.
" Madame's writing ! " he gasped.
" Yes ; it is to her nephew in Germany."
Louis took it in his hand. Then, with a
sudden motion, he threw it down among the
others, and then yet again his hand stole
towards it. His face was gray and haggard,
and beads of moisture had broken out upon
his brow. If this too were to prove to be as
the others ! He was shaken to the soul at
the very thought. Twice he tried to pluck it
out, and twice his trembling fingers fumbled
with the paper. Then he tossed it over to
Louvois. "Kead it to me," said he.

IX THE king's cabinet. 129

The minister opened the letter out and
flattened it upon the table, with a malicious
light dancing in his eyes, which might have
cost him his position had the king but read
it aright.

" ' My dear nephew/ " he read, '' ' what
you ask me in your last is absolutely impos-
sible. I have never abused the king's favour
so far as to ask for any profit for myself, and
I should be equally sorry to solicit any
advance for my relatives. No one would
rejoice more than I to see you rise to be
major in your regiment, but your valour and
your loyalty must be the cause, and you must
not hope to do it through any word of mine.
To serve such a man as the king is its own
reward, and I am sure that whether you
remain a cornet or rise to some higher rank,
you will be equally zealous in his cause. He
is surrounded, unhappily, by many base para-
sites. Some of these are mere fools, like
Lauzun ; others are knaves, like the late
i'ouquet ; and some seem to be both fools

VOL. II. 9

130 THE REFUGEES.

and knaves, like Louvois, the minister of
war.'" Here the reader choked with rage,
and sat gurgling and drumming his fingers
upon the table.

" Go on, Louvois, go on," said Louis smil-
ing up at the ceiling.

'' ' These are the clouds which surround
the sun, my dear nephew ; but the sun is,
believe me, shining brightly behind them.
For years I have known that noble nature as
few others can know it, and I can tell you
that his virtues are his own, but that if ever
his glory is for an instant dimmed over, it
is because his kindness of heart has allowed
him to be swayed by those who are about
him. We hope soon to see you back at
Versailles, staggering under the weight of
your laurels. Meanwhile accept my love and
every wish for your speedy promotion, al-
though it cannot be obtained in the way
which you suggest.'"

'' Ah," cried the king, his love shining in his
eves, ''how could I for an instant doubt her 1

IN THE king's cabinet. 131

And yet I had been so shaken by the others !
Francoise is as true as steel. Was it not a
beautiful letter, Louvois ? "

'' Madame is a very clever woman/' said the
minister, evasively.

'' And such a reader of hearts I Has she
not seen my character aright ? "

''At least she has not read mine, sire."

There was a tap at the door, and Bontems
peeped in. ''The archbishop has arrived, sire."

" Very well, Bontems. Ask madame to be
so good as to step this way. And order the
witnesses to assemble in the anteroom."

As the valet hastened away, Louis turned
to his minister : ''I wish you to be one of the
witnesses, Louvois."

" To what, sire ? "

" To my niarriage."

The minister started. '' What, sire ! Al-
ready ? "

" Now, Louvois ; within five minutes."

''Very good, sire." The unhappy courtier
strove hard to assume a more festive manner ;

132 THE REFUGEES.

but the night had been full of vexation to him,
and to be condemned to assist in making this
Avoman the king's wife was the most bitter
drop of all.

'' Put these letters away, Louvois. The
last one has made up for all the rest. But
these rascals shall smart for it, all the same.
By-the-way, there is that young nephew to
whom madame wrote. Gerard d'Aubigny is
his name, is it not ? "

''Yes, sire."

'' Make him out a colonel's commission, and
give him the next vacancy, Louvois."

'' A colonel, sire ! Why, he is not yet
twenty."

" Ay, Louvois. Pray am I the chief of the
army, or are you ? Take care, Louvois I I
have warned you once before. I tell you,
man, that if I choose to promote one of my
jack-boots to be the head of a brigade, you
shall not hesitate to make out the papers.
Now go into the anteroom, and wait with the
other witnesses until you are wanted."

IN THE king's cabinet. 133

There had meanwhile been busy goings-on
in the small room where the red lamp burned
in front of the Virgin. Francoise de Main-
tenon stood in the centre, a little flush of
excitement on her cheeks, and an unwonted
light in her placid gray eyes. She was clad in
a dress of shining white brocade, trimmed and
slashed with silver serge, and fringed at
the throat and arms with costly point-lace.
Three women, grouped around her, rose
and stooped and swayed, putting a touch
here and a touch there, gathering in, loop-
ing up, and altering until all was to their
taste.

" There 1 " said the head dressmaker, giving
a final pat to a rosette of gray silk ; " I think
that will do, your majes — that is to say,
madame."

The lady smiled at the adroit slip of the
courtier dressmaker.

" Mv tastes lean little towards dress," said
she, '' yet I would fain look as he would wish
me to look."

134 THE REFUGEES.

'' Ah, it is easy to dress madame. Madame
has a figui'e. Madame has a carriage. What
costume would not look well with such a neck
and waist and arm to set it off? But, ah,
madame, what are we to do when we have to
make the figure as well as the dress ? There
was the Princess Charlotte Elizabeth. It was
but yesterday that we cut her gown. She was
short, madame, but thick. Oh, it is incredible
how thick she was I She uses more cloth
than madame, though she is two hand-breadths
shorter. Ah, I am sure that the good God
never meant people to be as thick as that.
But then, of course, she is Bavarian, and not
French."

But madame was paying little heed to the
gossip of the dressmaker. Her eyes were
fixed upon the statue in the corner, and her
lips were moving in prayer — prayer that she
might be worthy of this great destiny which
had come so suddenly upon her, a poor gover-
ness ; that she might walk straight among the
pitfalls which surrounded her upon every side ;

IN THE king's cabinet. 135

that this night's work might bring a blessing
upon France and upon the man whom she
loved. There came a discreet tap at the door
to break in upon her prayer.

'' It is Bontems, madame," said Made-
moiselle Nanon. '' He says that the king
is ready."

'' Then we shall not keep him waiting.
Come, mademoiselle, and may God shed
His blessing upon what we are about to
do!"

The little party assembled in the king's ""'^
anteroom, and started from there to the
private chapel. In front walked the portly
bishop, clad in a green vestment, puffed out
with the importance of the function, his missal
in his hand, and his fingers between the pages
at the service de mairimoniis. Beside him
strode his almoner, and two little servitors
of the court in crimson cassocks bearing
lighted torches. The king and Madame
de Maintenon walked side by side, she quiet
and composed, with gentle bearing and down-

L**- *

136 THE KEFUGEES.

cast eyes, he with a flush on his dark
cheeks, and a nervous furtive look in his
eyes, like a man who knows that he is in
the midst of one of the great crises of his
life. Behind them, in solemn silence, fol-
lowed a little group of chosen witnesses,
the lean, silent Pere La Chaise, Louvois,
scowling heavily at the bride, the Marquis
de Charmarante, Bontems, and Mademoiselle
Nanon.

The torches shed a strong yellow light
upon this small band as they advanced
slowly through the corridors and salons
which led to the chapel, and they threw a
garish glare upon the painted walls and
ceilings, flashing back from gold-work and
from mirror, but leaving long trailing shadows
in the corners. The king glanced nervously
at these black recesses, and at the portraits
of his ancestors and relations which lined
the walls. As he passed that of his late
Queen, Maria Theresa, he started and gasped
with horror.

IN THE king's cabinet. 137

'' My God ! " he whispered ; '' she frowned
and spat at me ! "

Madame laid her cool hand upon his wrist.
'' It is nothing, sire/' she murmured, in her
soothing voice. '' It was but the light flicker-
ing over the picture."

Her words had their usual effect upon him.
The startled look died away from his eyes,
and taking her hand in his, he walked re-
solutely forwards. A minute later they were
before the altar, and the words were being
read which should bind them forever together.
As they turned away again, her new ring
blazing upon her finger, there was a buzz of
congratulation around her. The king only
said nothing, but he looked at her, and she
had no wish that he should say more. She
was still catm and pale, but the blood throbbed
in her temples. " You are Queen of France,
now," it seemed to be humming — " queen,
queen, queen ! "

But a sudden shadow had fallen across her,
and a low voice was in her ear. '' Remember

138 THE REFUGEES.

your promise to the Church," it whispered.
She started, and turned to see the pale eager
face of the Jesuit beside her.

''Your hand has turned cold, Francoise,"
said Louis. " Let us go, dearest. We have
been too long in this dismal church."

CHAPTER XX.

THE TWO FEANgOISES.

Madame de Montespan had retired to rest,
easy in her mind, after receiving the message
from her brother. She knew Louis as few
others knew him, and she was well aware of
that obstinacy in trifles w^hich was one of his
characteristics. If he had said that he would
be married by the archbishop, then the arch-
bishop it must be ; to-night, at least, there
should be no marriage. To-morrow was a
new day, and if it did not shake the king's
plans, then indeed she must have lost her wit
as well as her beauty.

She dressed herself with care in the morn-
ing, putting on her powder, her little touch of
rouge, her one patch near the dimple of her
cheek, her loose robe of violet velvet, and her

casconet of pearls with all the solicitude of a

(139)

140 THE EEFUGEES.

warrior who is bracing on his arms for a Hfe
and death contest. No news had come to her
of the great event of the previous night, al-
though the court already rang with it, for her
haughtiness and her bitter tongue had left her
without a friend or intimate. She rose, there-
fore, in the best of spirits, with her mind set
on the one question as to how^ best she should
gain an audience with the king.

She was still in her boudoir putting the
last touches to her toilet when her page an-
nounced to her that the king was waiting in
her saloiL Madame de Montespan could
hardly believe in such good fortune. She had
racked her brain all morning as to how she
should win her way to him, and here he was
waiting for her. With a last glance at the
mirror, she hastened to meet him.

He was standing with his back turned, look-
ing up at one of Snyders's paintings, when she
entered ; but as she closed the door, he turned
and took two steps towards her. She had
run forward with a pretty little cry of joy, her

THE TWO FllAN(j;0l8ES. 141

white arms outstretched, and love shining on
her face ; but he put out his hand, gently and
yet with decision, with a gesture which
checked her approach. Her hands dropped
to her side, her lip trembled, and she stood
looking at him with her grief and her fears all
speaking loudly from her eyes. There was a
look upon his features which she had never
seen before, and already something was
whispering at the back of her soul that to-day
at least his spirit was stronger than her own.

'' You are angry with me again," she cried.

He had come with every intention of begin-
ning the interview by telling her bluntly of his
marriage ; but now, as he looked upon her
beauty and her love, he felt that it would
have been less brutal to strike her down at
his feet. Let some one else tell her, then.
She w^ould know soon enough. Besides, there
would be less chance then of a scene, w^hich
was a thing abhorrent to his soul. His task
was, in any case, quite difficult enough. All
this ran swiftly through his mind, and she

142 THE REFUGEES.

as swiftly read it off in the brown eyes which
gazed at her.

'' You have something you came to say,
and now you have not the heart to say it.
God bless the kindly heart which checks the
cruel tongue ! "

'^ No, no, madame/' said Louis ; '' I would
not be cruel. I cannot forget that my life has
been brightened and my court made brilliant
during all these years by your wit and your
beauty. But times change, madame, and I
owe a duty to the world which overrides my
own personal inclinations. For every reason
I think that it is best that we should arrange
in the way which we discussed the other day,
and that you should withdraw yourself from
the court."

" Withdraw, sire I For how long ? "

" It must be a permanent withdrawal, ma-
dame."

She stood with clenched hands and a pale
face staring at him.

" I need not say that I shall make your

THE TWO FRAN9OLSES. 143

retirement a happy one as far as in me lies.
Yom' allowance shall be fixed by yourself;
a palace shall be erected for you in whatever
part of France you may prefer, provided that
it is twenty miles from Paris. An estate
also "

'' Oh, sire, how can you think that such
things as these would compensate me for the
loss of your love ? " Her heart had turned to
lead within her breast. Had he spoken hotly
and angrily she might have hoped to turn him
as she had done before ; but this gentle and
yet firm bearing was new to him, and she felt
that all her arts were vain against it. His
coolness enraged her, and yet she strove to
choke down her passion and to preserve the
humble attitude which was least natural to
her haughty and vehement spirit ; but soon
the effort became too much for her.

'' Madame," said he, '' I have thought well
over this matter, and it must be as I say.
There is no other way at all. Since we must
part, the parting had best be short and sharp.

144 THE REFUGEES.

Believe me, it is no pleasant matter for me
either. I have ordered your brother to have
his carriage at the postern at nine o'clock, for
I thought that perhaps you would wish to
retire after nightfall."

'' To hide my shame from a laughing court !
It was thoughtful of you, sire. And yet,
perhaps, this too was a duty, since we hear
so much of duties nowadays, for who was it
but you "

'' I know, madame, I know. I confess it.
I have wronged you deeply. Believe me that
every atonement which is in my powder shall
be made. Nay, do not look so angrily at me,
I beg. Let our last sight of each other be
one which may leave a pleasant memory be-
hind it."

'' A pleasant memory ! " All the gentleness
and humility had fallen from her now, and her
voice had the hard ring of contempt and of
anger. '' A pleasant memory ! It may well
be pleasant to you, who are released from the
woman whom you ruined, who can turn now

THE TWO FRAN9OISES. 145

to another without any pale face to be seen
within the salons of your court to remind you
of your perfidy. But to me, pining in some
lonely country house, spurned by my husband,
despised by my family, the scorn and jest of
France, far from all which gave a charm to
life, far from the man for whose love I have
sacrificed everything — this will be a very plea-
sant memory to me, you may be sure ! "

The king's eyes had caught the angry gleam
which shot from hers, and yet he strove hard
to set a curb upon his temper. When such a
matter had to be discussed between the
proudest man and the haughtiest woman in
all France, one or the other must yield a
point. He felt that it was for him to do so,
and yet it did not come kindly to his im-
perious nature.

" There is nothing to be gained, madame,"
said he, '' by using words which are neither
seemly for your tongue nor for my ears. You
will do me the justice to confess that where I
might command I am now entreating, and

VOL. II. 10

14G THE REFUGEES.

that instead of ordering you as my subject,
I am persuading you as my friend."

'' Oh, you show too much consideration,
sire ! Our relations of twenty years or so
can scarce suffice to explain such forbearance
from you. I should indeed be grateful that
you have not set your archers of the guard
upon me, or marched me from the palace
between a file of your musketeers. Sire,
how can I thank you for this forbearance ? "
She courtesied low, with her face set in a
mocking smile.

''Your words are bitter, madame."

" My heart is bitter, sire."

" Nay, Francoise, be reasonable, I implore
you. We have both left our youth behind."

" The allusion to my years comes gracefully
from your lips."

" Ah, you distort my words. Then I shall
say no more. You may not see me again,
madame. Is there no question which you
would wish to ask me before I go ? "

'' Good God ! " she cried ; ''is this a man I

THE TWO FRANCOISES. 147

Has it a heart ? Are these the Kps which
have told me so often that he loved me ? Are
these the eyes which have looked so fondly
into mine ? Can you then thrust away a
woman whose life has been yours as you put
away the St. Germain palace when a more
showy one was ready for you ? And this
is the end of all those vows, those sweet
whispers, those persuasions, those promises

This!"

" Nay, madame, this is painful to both of

us."

" Pain ! Where is the pain in your face ?
I see anger in it because I have dared to
speak truth ; I see joy in it because you feel
that your vile task is done. But where is the
pain ? Ah, when I am gone all will be so
easy to you^-will it not ? You can go back
then to your governess "

" Madame ! "

" Yes, yes, you cannot frighten me ! What
do I care for all that you can do ? But I
know all. Do not think that I am blind.

148 THE REFUGEES.

And so you would even have married her I
You the descendant of St. Louis, and *she the
Scarron widow, the poor drudge whom in
charity I took into my household ! Ah, how
your courtiers will smile ! how the little poets
will scribble ! how the wits will whisper !
You do not hear of these things, of course,
but they are a little painful for your friends."

'' My patience can bear no more," cried the
king furiously. " I leave you, madame, and
forever."

But her fury had swept all fear and dis-
cretion from her mind. She stepped between
the door and him, her face flushed, her eyes
blazing, her face thrust a little forward, one
small white satin slipper tapping upon the
carpet.

'^ You are in haste, sire ! She is waiting for
you, doubtless."

'' Let me past, madame."

^^But it was a disappointment last night,
was it not, my poor sire ? Ah, and for the
governess, what a blow ! Great Heaven, what

THE TWO FRAN9OLSES. 149

a blow! No archbishop! No marriage! All
the pretty plan gone wrong ! Was it not cruel ? "

Louis gazed at the beautiful furious face in
bewilderment, and it flashed across his mind
that perhaps her grief had turned her brain.
What else could be the meaning of this wild
talk of the archbishop and the disappoint-
ment ? It would be unworthy of him to speak
harshly to one who was so afliicted. He must
sooth her, and, above all, he must get away
from her.

'' You have had the keeping of a good many
of my family jewels," said he. '' I beg that
you will still retain them as a small sign of my
regard."

He had hoped to please her and to calm
her, but in an instant she was over at her
treasure-cupboard hui:Hng double handfuls of
precious stones down at his feet. They
clinked and rattled, the little pellets of red
and yellow and green, rolling, glinting over
the floor and rapping up against the oak
panels at the base of the w alls.

150 THE REFUGEES.

'' They will do for the governess if the
archbishop comes at last/' she cried.

He was more convinced than ever that she
had lost her wits. A thought struck him
by which he might appeal to all that was
softer and more gentle in her nature. He
stepped swiftly to the door, pushed it half
open, and gave a whispered order. A youth
with long golden hair waving down over his
black velvet doublet entered the room. It
was her youngest son, the Count of Toulouse.

" I thought that you would wish to bid him
farewell," said Louis.

She stood staring as though unable to
realise the significance of his words. Then
it was borne suddenly in upon her that her
children as well as her lover were to be taken
from her, that this other woman should see
them and speak with them and win their love
while she was far away. All that was evil
and bitter in the woman flashed suddenly
up in her, until for the instant she was what
the king had thought her. If her son was not

THE TWO FKAN9OISES. 151

for her, then he should be for none. A
jewelled knife lay among her treasures, ready
to her hand. She caught it up and rushed
at the cowering lad. Louis screamed and
ran forward to stop her ; but another had
been swifter than he. A woman had darted
through the open door, and had caught the
upraised wrist. There was a moment's strug-
gle, two queenly figures swayed and strained,
and the knife dropped between their feet.
The frightened Louis caught it up, and seizing
his little son by the wrist, he rushed from the
apartment. Frangoise de Montespan stag-
gered back against the ottoman to find herself
confronted by the steady eyes and set face of
that other Francoise, the woman whose pres-
ence fell like a shadow at every turn of her
Hfe.

" I have saved you, madame, from doing
that which you would have been the first to
bewail."

'' Saved me ! It is you who have driven me
to this ! "

152 THE REFUGEES.

The fallen favourite leaned against the high
back of the ottoman, her hands resting behind
her upon the curve of the velvet. Her lids
were half closed on her flashing eyes, and her
lips just parted to show a gleam of her white
teeth. Here was the true Francoise de Mon-
tespan, a feline creature crouching for a spring,
very far from that humble and soft-spoken
Francoise who had won the king back by her
gentle words. Madame de Maintenon's hand
had been cut in the struggle, and the blood
was dripping down from the end of her fingers,
but neither woman had time to spare a thought
upon that. Her firm gray eyes were fixed
upon her former rival as one fixes them upon
some weak and treacherous creature who may
be dominated by a stronger will.

'' Yes, it is you who have driven me to this
— you, whom I picked up when you were hard
pressed for a crust of bread or a cup of sour
wine. What had you ? You had nothing —
nothing except a name which was a laughing-
stock. And what did I give you? I gave

THE TWO FKANgOISES. 153

you everything. You know that I gave you
everything. Money, position, the entrance to
the court. You had them all from me. And
now you mock me ! "

'' Madame, I do not mock you. I pity you
from the bottom of my heart."

'' Pity ? Ha ! ha ! A Mortemart is pitied
by the widow Scarron ! Your pity may go
where your gratitude is, and where your
character is. We shall be troubled w^ith it no
longer then."

^^ Your words do not pain me."
^' I can believe that you are not sensitive."
''Xot when my conscience is at ease."
" Ah I it has not troubled you, then ?"
^^Not upon this point, madame."
^^ My God ! How terrible must those other
points have been !"

'' I have never had an evil thought towards

you."

'' Xone towards me? Oh, woman, w^omanl"

'' What have I done, then ? The king came

to my room to see the children taught. He

154 THE REFUGEES.

staid. He talked. He asked my opinion on
this and that. Could I be silent ? or could I
say other than what 1 thought ? "

'' You turned him against me ! "

" I should be proud indeed if I thought
that I had turned him to virtue."

'' The word comes well from your lips."

" I would that I heard it upon yours."

'^ And so, by your own confession, you stole
the king's love from me, most virtuous of
widows ! "

'' I had all gratitude and kindly thought for
you. You have, as you have so often re-
minded me, been my benefactress. It was
not necessary for you to say it, for I had
never for an instant forgotten it. Yet if the
king has asked me what I thought, I will not
deny to you that 1 have said that sin is sin,
and that he would be a worthier man if he
shook off the guilty bonds which held him."

'' Or exchanged them for others."

'' For those of duty."

'' Pah ! Your hypocrisy sickens me ! If

THE TWO FRA^^gOISES. 155

you pretend to be a nun, why are you not
where the nuns are ? You would have the
best of two worlds — would you not ? — have
all that the court can give, and yet ape the
manners of the cloister. But you need not
do it with me ! I know you as your inmost
heart knows you. I was honest, and what I
did, I did before the world. You, behind
your priests and your directors and your prie-
dieus and your missals — do you think that
you deceive me, as you deceive others ? "

Her antagonist's grey eyes sparkled for the
first time, and she took a quick step forward,
with one white hand half lifted in rebuke.

'' You may speak as you will of me," said
she. '' To me it is no more than the foolish
paroquet that chatters in your anteroom.
But do not touch upon things which are
sacred. Ah, if you would but raise your own
thoughts to such things — if you would but
turn them inwards, and see, before it is too
late, how vile and foul is this life which you
have led I What might you not have done ?

156 . THE REFUGEES.

His soul was in your hands like clay for the
potter. If you had raised him up, if you had
led him on the higher path, if you had brought
out all that was noble and good within him,
how your name would have been loved and
blessed, from the chateau to the cottage !
But no ; you dragged him down ; you wasted
his youth ; you drew him from his wife ; you
marred his manhood. A crime in one so
high begets a thousand others in those who
look to him for an example ; and all, all are
upon your soul. Take heed, madame, for
God's sake take heed ere it be too late ! For
all your beauty, there can be for you, as for
me, a few short vears of life. Then, when
that brown hair is white, when that white
cheek is sunken, when that bright eye is
dimmed — ah, then God pity the sin-stained
soul of Francoise de Montespan ! "

Her rival had sunk her head for the
moment before the solemn words and the
beautiful eyes. For an instant she stood
silent, cowed for the first time in all her life ;

THE TWO FRANCOISES. 157

but then the mocking, defiant spirit came
back to her, and she glanced up with a
curhng hp.

'' I am already provided with a spiritual
director, thank you," said she. '' Oh, ma-
dame, you must not think to throw dust in
my eyes ! I know you, and know you well I "

'' On the contrary, you seem to know less
than I had expected. If you know me so
well, pray what am 1 ? "

All her rival's bitterness and hatred rang in
the tones of her answer. '' You are," said she,
'' the governess of my children, and the secret
mistress of the king."

'' You are mistaken," answered Madame de
Maintenon, serenely. '' I am the governess of
your children, and I am the king's wife."

CHAPTER XXI.

THE MAK IN THE CALICHE.

Often had De Montespan feigned a faint
in the days when she wished to disarm the
anger of the king. So she had drawn his
arms round her, and won the pity which is
the twin sister of love. But now she knew
what it was to have the senses struck out
of her by a word. She could not doubt the
truth of what she heard. There was that
in her rival's face, in her steady eye, in her
quiet voice, which carried absolute conviction
with it. She stood stunned for an instant,
panting, her outstretched hands feeling at the
air, her defiant eyes dulling and glazing.
Then, with a short sharp cry, the wail of one
who has fought hard and yet knows that she

can fight no more, her proud head drooped,

(158)

THE MAN IN THE OALECHE. 159

and she fell forwards senseless at the feet of
her rival.

Madame de Mamtenon stooped and raised
her up in her strong white arms. There were
true grief and pity in her eyes as she looked
down at the snow-pale face which lay against
her bosom, all the bitterness and pride gone
out of it, and nothing left save the tear which
sparkled under the dark lashes, and the
petulant droop of the lip, like that of a child
which had wept itself to sleep. She laid her
on the ottoman and placed a silken cushion
under her head. Then she gathered together
and put back into the open cupboard all the
jewels which were scattered about the carpet.
Having locked it, and placed the key on a
table where its owner s eye would readily fall
upon it, she struck a gong, which summoned
the little black page.

" Your mistress is indisposed," said she.
'^Go and bring her maids to her." And so,
having done all that lay with her to do, she
turned away from the great silent room,

160 THE REFUGEES.

where, amid the velvet and the gilding, her
beautiful rival lay like a crushed flower, help-
less and hopeless.

Helpless enough, for what could she do ?
and hopeless too, for how could fortune aid
her? The instant that her senses had come
back to her she had sent away her waiting-
women, and lay with clasped hands and a
drawn face planning out her own weary
future. She must go ; that was certain. Not
merely because it was the king's order, but
because only misery and mockery remained
for her now in the palace where she had
reigned supreme. It was true that she had
held her position against the queen before,
but all her hatred could not blind her to the
fact that her rival was a very different woman
to poor meek little Maria Theresa. No ; her
spirit was broken at last. She must accept
defeat, and she must go.

She rose from the couch, feeling that she
had aged ten years in an hour. There was
much to be done, and little time in which to

THE MAN IN THE CALECHE. 161

do it. She had cast down her jewels when
the king had spoken as though they would
atone for the loss of his love ; but now that
the love was gone, there was no reason why
the jewels should be lost too. If she had
ceased to be the most powerful, she might still
be the richest woman in France. There was
her pension, of course. That would be a
munificent one, for Louis was always gener-
ous. And then there was all the spoil which
she had collected during these long years, the
jewels, the pearls, the gold, the vases, the
pictures, the crucifixes, the watches, the trin-
kets— together they represented many millions
of livres. With her own hands she packed
away the more precious and portable of them,
while she arranged with her brother for the
safe-keeping of the others. All day she was
at work in a mood of feverish energy, doing
anything and everything which might distract
her thoughts from her own defeat and her
rival's victory. By evening all was ready,
and she had arranged that her property

VOL. II. 11

1G2 THE REFUGEES.

should be sent after her to Petit Bourg, to
which castle she intended to retire.

It wanted half an hour of the time fixed
for her departure, when a young cavalier,
whose face was strange to her, was ushered
mto her room.

He came with a message from her brother.

" Monsieur de Vivonne regrets, madame,
that the rumour of your departure has got
abroad among the court."

" What do I care for that, monsieur ? " she
retorted, with all her old spirit.

'' He says, madame, that the courtiers may
asseml )le at the west gate to see you go ; that
Madame de Neuilly will be there, and the
Duchesse de Chambord, and Mademoiselle
de Rohan, and "

The ladv shrunk with horror at the thought
of such an ordeal. To drive away from the
palace, where she had been more than queen,
under the scornful eyes and bitter gibes of
so many personal enemies ! After all the
humiliations of the day, that would be the

THE MAN IN THE CALECHE. 163

crowning cup of sorrow. Her nerve was
broken. She could not face it.

'' Tell mv brother, monsieur, that I should
be much obliged if he would make fresh
arrangements, by which my departure might
be private."

" He bade me say that he had done so,
madame."

" Ah I at what hour, then ? "

" Now. As soon as possible."

" I am ready. At the west gate, then ? "

" No ; at the east. The carriage waits."

" And where is my brother ? "

'' We are to pick him up at the park gate."

^^And whv that?"

" Because he is watched ; and were he seen
beside the carriage, all would be known."

'' Very good. Then, monsieur, if you will
take my cloak and this casket we may start
at once."

They made their way by a circuitous route
through the less-used corridors, she hurrying
on like a guilty creature, a hood drawn over

164 THE REFUGEES.

her face, and her heart m a flutter at every
stray footfall. But fortune stood her friend.
She met no one, and soon found herself at
the eastern postern-gate. A couple of phleg-
matic Swiss guardsmen leaned upon their
muskets upon either side, and the lamp above
shone upon the carriage which awaited her.
The door was open, and a tall cavalier
swathed in a black cloak handed her into it.
He then took the seat opposite to her,
slammed the door, and the caleche rattled
awav down the main drive.

It had not surj)rised her that this man
should join her inside the coach, for it was
usual to have a guard there, and he was
doubtless taking the place which her brother
would afterwards occupy. That was all
natural enough. But when ten minutes
passed by, and he had neither moved nor
spoken, she peered at him through the gloom
with some curiosity. In the glance which she
had of him, as he handed her in, she had seen
that he was dressed like a gentleman, and

THE MAN IN THE CALfeCHE. 165

there was that in his bow and wave as he did
it which told her experienced senses that he
was a man of courtly manners. But courtiers,
as she had known them, were gallant and
garrulous, and this man was so very quiet
and still. Again she strained her eyes
through the gloom. His hat was pulled down
and his cloak was still drawn across his
mouth, but from out of the shadow she
seemed to get a glimpse of two eyes which
peered at her even as she did at him.

At last the silence impressed her with a
vague uneasiness. It was time to bring it to
an end.

'' Surely, monsieur, we have passed the
park gate where we were to pick up my
brother."

Her companion neither answered nor
moved. She thought that perhaps the
rumble of the heavy caleche had drowned
her voice.

'' I say, monsieur," she repeated, leaning
forwards, 'Hhat we have passed the place

166 THE REFUGEES.

where we were to meet Monsieur de Vi-

vonne."

He took no notice.

''Monsieur/' she cried, ''I again remark
that we have passed the gates."

There was no answer.

A thrill ran through her nerves. Who or
what could he be, this silent man ? Then
suddenly it struck her that he might be
dumb.

" Perhaps monsieur is afflicted," she said.
" Perhaps monsieur cannot speak. If that
be the cause of your silence, will you raise
your hand, and I shall understand." He sat
rigid and silent.

Then a sudden mad fear came upon her,
shut up in the dark with this dreadful voice-
less thing. She screamed in her terror, and
strove to pull down the window and open
the door. But a grip of steel closed suddenly
round her wrist and forced her back into her
seat. And yet the man's body had not mov6d,
and there was no sound save the lurching and

THE MAN IN THE CALECHE. 167

rasping of the carriage and the clatter of the
flying horses. They were already out on the
country roads far beyond Versailles. It was
darker than before, heavy clouds had banked
over the heavens, and the rumbling of thunder
was heard low down on the horizon.

The lady lay back panting upon the leather
cushions of the carriage. She was a brave
woman, and yet this sudden strange horror
coming upon her at the moment when she
was weakest had shaken her to the soul. She
crouched in the corner, staring across with
eyes which were dilated with terror at the
figure on the other side. If he would but say
something ! Any revelation, any menace, was
better than this silence. It was so dark now
that she could hardly see his vague outline,
and every instant, as the storm gathered, it
became still darker. The wind was blowing
in little short angry puffs, and still there was
that far-off* rattle and rumble. Again the
strain of the silence was unbearable. She
must break it at any cost.

168 THE REFUGEES.

'' Sir/' said she, " there is some mistake
here. I do not know by what right you
prevent me from pulling down the window
and giving my directions to the coachman."

He said nothing.

''I repeat, sir, that there is some mistake.
This is the carriage of my brother. Monsieur
de Vivonne, and he is not a man who will

allow his sister to be treated uncourteouslv."

t/

A few heavy drops of rain splashed against
one window. The clouds were lower and
denser. She had quite lost sight of that
motionless figure, but it was all the more
terrible to her now that it was unseen. She
screamed with sheer terror, but her scream
availed no more than her words.

^' Sir," she cried, clutching forward with
her hands and grasping his sleeve, " you
frighten me. You terrify me. I have never
harmed you. Why should you wish to hurt
an unfortunate woman ? Oh, speak to me ;
for God's sake, speak ! "

Still the patter of rain upon the window,

THE MAN IN THE CALECHE. 169

and no other sound save her own sharp
breathing.

'' Perhaps you do not know who I am ! "
she continued, endeavouring to assume her
usual tone of command, and talking now to
an absolute and impenetrable darkness. ''You
may learn when it is too late that you have
chosen the wrong person for this pleasantry.
I am the Marquise de Montespan, and I am
not one who forgets a slight. If you know
anything of the court, you must know that
my word has some weight with the king.
You may carry me away in this carriage,
but I am not a person who can disappear
without speedy inquiry, and speedy venge-
ance if I have been wronged. If you would
Oh, Jesus ! Have mercy ! "

A livid flash of lightning had burst from
the heart of the cloud, and, for an instant,
the whole country-side and the interior of
the caleche were as light as day. The man's
face was within a hand's-breadth of her own,
his mouth wide open, his eyes mere shining

170 THE REFUGEES.

slits, convulsed with silent merriment. Every
detail flashed out clear in that vivid light —
his red quivering tongue, the lighter pink
beneath it, the broad white teeth, the short
brown beard cut into a peak and bristling
forward.

But it was not the sudden flash, it was
not the laughing, cruel face, which shot an
ice-cold shudder through Francoise de Monte-
span. It was that, of all men upon earth,
this was he whom she most dreaded, and
whom she had least thought to see.

'' Maurice ! " she screamed. '' Maurice !
it IS you I

'^ Yes, little wifie, it is 1. We are restored
to each other's arms, you see, after this inter-
val."

'' Oh, Maurice, how you have frightened
me ! How could you be so cruel ? Why
would you not speak to me?"

''Because it was so sweet to sit in silence
and to think that I really had you to myself
after all these years, with none to come be-

THE MAN IN THE CALECHE. 171

tween. Ah, little wifie, I have often longed
for this hour."

'' I have vrrono;ed vou, Maurice ; I have
wronged you I Forgive me I "

''We do not forgive in our family, my
darling Francoise. Is it not like old days
to find ourselves driving together? And in
this carriage, too. It is the very one which
bore us back from the cathedral where vou
made your vows so prettily. I sat as I sit
now, and you sat there, and I took your hand
like this, and I pressed it, and "

''Oh, villain, you have twisted my wrist!
You have broken my arm I "

" Oh, surely not, my little wifie ! And then
you remember that, as you told me how truly
you would love me, I leaned forward to your
lips, and "

" Oh, help ! Brute, you have cut my

mouth I You have struck me with your

J?
ring.

" Struck you ! Now who would have

thought that spring day when we planned

172 THE REFUGEES.

out our futures, that this also was in the
future waiting for me and you ? And this !
and this I "

He struck savagely at her face in the
darkness. She threw herself down, her head
pressed against the cushions. With the
strength and fury of a maniac he showered
his blows above her, thudding ujDon the
leather or crashing upon the wood-work,
heedless of his own splintered hands.

''So I have silenced you," said he at
last. " I have stopped your words with
my kisses before now. But the world
goes on, Francoise, and times change,
and women grow false, and men grow
stern."

" You may kill me if you will," she moaned.

" I will," said he, simply.

Still the carriage flew along, jolting and
staggering in the deeply-rutted country roads.
The storm had passed, but the growl of the
thunder and the far-off* glint of a lightning-
flash were to be heard and seen on the other

THE MAN IN THE CALECHE. 173

side of the heavens. The moon shone out
with its clear cold light, silvering the broad,
hedgeless, poplar-fringed plains, and shining
through the window of the carriage upon
the crouching figure and her terrible com-
panion. He leaned back now, his arms
folded upon his chest, his eyes gloating upon
the abject misery of the woman who had
wronged him.

'' Where are you taking me ? " she asked
at last.

^^To Portillac, my little wifie."

" And why there ? What would you do
to me ? "

" I would silence that little lying tongue
forever. It shall deceive no more men."

" You would murder me ? "

^af you call it that."

'' You have a stone for a heart."

'' My other was given to a woman."

'' Oh, my sins are indeed punished."

'' Rest assured that they will be."

" Can I do nothing to atone ? "

174 THE REFUGEES.

'' I will see that vou atone."

'' You have a sword by your side, Maurice.
Why do you not kill me, then, if you are so
bitter against me? Why do you not pass it
through mv heart?"

'^Rest assured that I would have done so
had I not an excellent reason."

^^Why, then?"

" I will tell vou. At Portillac I have the
right of the high justice, the middle, and the
low. I am seigneur there, and can try, con-
demn, and execute. It is my lawful privi-
lege. This pitiful king will not even know
how to avenge you, for the right is mine, and
he cannot gainsay it without making an
enemy of every seigneur in France."

He opened his mouth again and laughed
at his own device, while she, shivering in
every limb, turned away from his cruel face
and glowing eyes, and buried her face in her
hands. Once more she prayed God to forgive
her for her poor sinful life. So they whirled
through the night behind the clattering horses,

THE MAN IN THP] CALECHE. 175

the husband and the wife, saying nothing, but
with hatred and fear raging in their hearts,
until a brazier fire shone down upon them
from the angle of a keep, and the shadow
of the huge pile loomed vaguely up in front
of them in the darkness. It was the Castle
of Portillac.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE SCAFFOLD OF POETILLAC.

And thus it was that Amory de Catinat and
Amos Green saw from theh^ dungeon window
the midnight carriage which discharged its
prisoner before their eyes. Hence, too, came
that ominous planking and that strange proces-
sion in the early morning. And thus it also
happened that they found themselves looking
down upon Francoise de Montespan as she
was led to her death, and that thev heard
that last piteous cry for aid at the instant
when the heavy hand of the ruffian with the
axe fell upon her shoulder, and she was
forced down upon her knees beside the block.
She shrank screaming from the dreadful red-
stained, greasy billet of wood, but the butcher
heaved up his weapon, and the seigneur had

taken a step forward with hand outstretched

(176)

THE SCAFFOLD OF PORTILLAC. 177

to seize the long auburn hair and to drag the
dainty head down with it, when suddenly he
was struck motionless with astonishment, and
stood with his foot advanced and his hand
still out, his mouth half open, and his eyes
fixed in front him.

And, indeed, what he had seen was enough
to fill any man with amazement. Out of the
small square window which faced him a man
had suddenly shot head-foremost, pitching on
to his outstretched hands and then bounding
to his feet. Within a foot of his heels came
the head of a second one, who fell more
heavily than the first, and yet recovered him-
self as quickly. The one wore the blue coat
and silver facings of the king's guard ; the
second had the dark coat and clean-shaven
face of a man of peace ; but each carried a
short rusty iron bar in his hand. Not a word
did either of them say, but the soldier took
two quick steps forward and struck at the
headsman while he was still poising himself
for a blow at the victim. There was a thud,

VOL. II. 12

178 • THE REFUGEES.

with a crackle like a breaking egg, and the
bar flew into pieces. The headsman gave a
dreadful cry, and dropped his axe, clapped his
two hands to his head, and running zigzag
across the scaflold, fell over, a dead man, into
the court-yard beneath.

Quick as a flash De Catinat had caught up
the axe, and faced De Montespan with the
heavy weapon slung over his shoulder and a
challenge in his eyes.

'^Xow ! " said he.

The seigneur had for the instant been too
astounded to speak. Now he understood at
least that these strangers had come between
him and his prey.

'' Seize these men I " he shrieked, turning to
his followers.

'' One moment ! " cried De Catinat, with a
voice and manner which commanded attention.
" You see by my coat what I am. I am the
body-servant of the king. Who touches me
touches him. Have a care to yourselves. It
is a dangerous game ! "

THE SCAFFOLD OF PORTILLAC. 179

'' On, you cowards ! " roared De Montespan.

But the men-at-arms hesitated, for the fear
of the king was as a great shadow which
hung over all France. De Catinat saw their
indecision, and he followed up his advantage.

" This woman," he cried, '' is the king's own
favourite, and if any harm come to a lock of
her hair, I tell you that there is not a living
soul within this portalice who will not die a
death of torture. Fools, will you gasp out
your lives upon the rack, or writhe in boiling
oil, at the bidding of this madman ? "

'' Who are these men, Marceau ? " cried the
seigneur, furiously.

" They are prisoners, your excellency."

" Prisoners ! Whose prisoners ? "

'' Yours, your excellency."

'' Who ordered you to detain them ? "

" You did. The escort brought your signet-
ring.

" I never saw the men. There is devilry
in this. But they shall not beard me in my
own castle, nor stand between me and my

180 THE REFUGEES.

own wife. No, par dieu ! they shall not and
live ! You men, Marceau, Etienne, Gilbert,
Jean, Pierre, all you w^ho have eaten my
bread, on to them, I say ! "

He glanced round with furious eyes, but
they fell only upon hung heads and averted
faces. With a hideous curse he flashed out
his sword and rushed at his wife, who knelt
half insensible beside the block. De Catinat
sprang between them to protect her ; but
Marceau, the bearded seneschal, had already
seized his master round the waist. With the
strength of a maniac, his teeth clenched and
the foam churning from the corners of his
lips, De Montespan writhed round in the
man's grasp, and shortening his sword, he
thrust it through the brown beard and deep
into the throat behind it. Marceau fell back
with a choking cry, the blood bubbling from
his mouth and his wound ; but before his
murderer could disengage his weapon, De
Catinat and the American, aided by a dozen
of the retainers, had dragged him down on to

THE SCAFFOLD OF PORTILLAC. 181

the scaffold, and Amos Green had pinioned
him so securely that he could but move his
eyes and his lips, with which he lay glaring
and spitting at them. So savage were his
own followers against him — for Marceau was
well loved amongst them — that, with axe and
block so ready, justice might very swiftly
have had her way, had not a long clear bugle
call, rising and falling in a thousand little
twirls and flourishes, clanged out suddenly in
the still morning air. De Catinat pricked up
his ears at the sound of it like a hound at the
huntsman's call.

" Did you hear, Amos ? "

'' It was a trumpet."

'' It was the guards' bugle call. You, there,
hasten to the gate ! Throw up the portcullis
and drop the draw^bridge ! Stir yourselves, or
even now you may suffer for your master's
sins I It has been a narrow escape, Amos ! "

''You may say so, friend. I saw him
put out his hand to her hair, even as you
sprang from the windows Another instant

182 THE REFUGEES.

and he would have had her scalped. But
she is a fair woman, the fairest that ever my
eyes rested upon, and it is not fit that she
should kneel here upon these boards." He
dragged her husband's long black cloak from
him, and made a pillow for the senseless
woman with a tenderness and delicacy which
came strangly from a man of his build and
bearing.

He w^as still stooping over her. when there
came the clang of the falling bridge, and an
instant later the clatter of the hoofs of a
troop of cavalry, wdio swept with wave of
plumes, toss of manes, and jingle of steel into
the court-yard. At the head was a tall horse-
man in the full dress of the guards, with a
curling feather in his hat, high buff gloves,
and his sword gleaming in the sunlight. He
cantered forward towards the scaffold, his
keen dark eyes taking in every detail of the
group which awaited him there. De Catinat's
face brightened at the sight of him, and he
was down in an instant beside his stirrup.

THE SCAFFOLD OF PORTILLAC. 183

" De Brissac I "

'' De Catinat ! Now where in the name of
wonder did you come from ? "

'' I have been a prisoner. Tell me, De
Brissac, did you leave the message in Paris ? "

^^Certainlv I did."

" And the archbishop came ? "

^^ He did."

'' And the marriage ? "

'' Took place as arranged. That is why this
poor woman whom I see yonder has had to
leave the palace."

" I thought as much."

'' I trust that no harm has come to her ? "

'' My friend and I were just in time to save
her. Her husband lies there. He is a fiend,
De Brissac."

^^ Very likely ; but an angel might have
grown bitter had he had the same treatment."

" We have him pinioned here. He has
slain a man, and I have slain another."

'' On my word, you have been busy."

" How did vou know that we were here ? "

184 THE REFUGEES.

''Nay, that is an unexpected pleasure."

" You did not come for us, then ? "

"So ; we came for the lady."

" And how did this fellow get hold of her ?"

" Her brother was to have taken her in his
carriage. Her husband learned it, and by a
lying message he coaxed her into his own,
which was at another door. When De
Vivonne found that she did not come, and
that her rooms were empty, he made inquires,
and soon learned how she had gone. De
Montespan's arms had been seen on the panel,
and so the king sent me here with my troop
as fast as we could gallop."

" Ah, and vou would have come too late
had a strange chance not brought us here. I
know not who it was who waylaid us, for this
man seemed to know nothing of the matter.
However, all that will be clearer afterwards.
What is to be done now ? "

" I have my own orders. Madame is to be
sent to Petit Bourg, and any who are
concerned in offering her violence are to be

THE SCAFFOLD OF PORTILLAC. 185

kept until the king's pleasure is known. The
castle, too, must be held for the king. But
you, De Catinat, you have nothing to do now?"

'' Nothing, save that I would like well to
ride into Paris to see that all is right with
my uncle and his daughter."

" Ah, that sweet little cousin of thine I Bv
my soul, I do not wonder that the folk know
you well in the Rue St. Martin. Well, I have
carried a message for you once, and you shaU
do as much for me now."

'' With all my heart. And whither ? "

'' To Versailles. The king will be on fire to
know how we have fared. You have the best
right to tell him, since without you and your
friend yonder it would have been but a sorry
tale."

" I will be there in two hours."

" Have you horses ? "

'' Ours were slain."

''You will find some in the stables here.
Pick the best, since you have lost your own
in the king's service."

186 THE REFUGEES.

The advice was too good to be overlooked.
De Catinat, beckoning to Amos Green, hurried
away with him to the stables, while De Brissac,
with a few short sharp orders disarmed the
retainers, stationed his guardsmen all over the
castle, and arranged for the removal of the
lady and for the custody of her husband. An
hour later the two friends were riding swiftly
down the country road, inhaling the sweet air,
which seemed the fresher for their late ex-
perience of the dank foul vapours of their
dungeon. Far behind them a little dark pin-
nacle jutting over a grove of trees marked the
chateau which they had left, while on the
extreme horizon to the west there came a
quick shimmer and sparkle where the level
rays of the early sun gleamed upon the
magnificent palace which was their goal.

CHAPTER XXIIL

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS.

Two days after Madame de Maintenon's
marriage to the king there was held w^ithin
the humble walls of her little room a meeting
which was destined to cause untold misery to
many hundreds of thousands of people, and
yet, in the wisdom of Providence, to be an
instrument in carrying French arts and French
ingenuity and French sprightliness among
those heavier Teutonic peoples who have been
the stronger and the better ever since for the
leaven which they then received. For in
history great evils have sometimes arisen from
a virtue, and most beneficent results have
often followed hard upon a crime.

The time had come when the Church was

to claim her promise from madame, and her

(187)

188 THE REFUGEES.

pale cheek and sad eyes showed how vain it
had been for her to try and drown the plead-
ings of her tender heart by the arguments of
the bigots around her. She knew the Hugue-
nots of France. Who could know them better,
seeing that she was herself from their stock,
and had been brought up in their faith ? She
knew their patience, their nobility, their in-
dependence, their tenacity. What chance
was there that they would conform to the
king's wish ? A few great nobles might, but
the others would laugh at the galleys, the
jail, or even the gallows when the faith of
their fathers was at stake. If their creed
were no longer tolerated, then, and if they
remained true to it, they must either fly from
the country or spend a living death tugging at
an oar or working in a chain-gang upon the
roads. It was a dreadful alternative to pre-
sent to a people who were so numerous that
they made a small nation in themselves. And
most dreadful of all that she who was of their
own blood should cast her voice against them.

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 189

And yet her promise had been given, and now
the time had come when it must be redeemed.

The eloquent Bishop Bossuet was there,
with Louvois, the minister of war, and the
famous Jesuit, Father La Chaise, each piHng
argument upon argument to overcome the
reluctance of the king. Beside them stood
another priest, so thin and so pale that he
might have risen from his bed of death, but
with a fierce light burning in his large dark
eyes, and with a terrible resolution in his
drawn brows and in the set of his grim, lanky
jaw. Madame bent over her tapestry and
weaved her coloured silks in silence, while
the king leaned upon his hand and listened
with the face of a man who knows that he is
driven, and yet can hardly turn against the
goads. On the low table lay a paper, with
pen and ink beside it. It was the order for
the revocation, and it only needed the
king's signature to make it the law of the
land.

'' And so, father, you are of opinion that if

190 THE REFUGEES.

I stamp out heresy in this fashion I shall
assure my own salvation in the next world ? "
he asked.

'' You will have merited a reward."

" And you think so too, Monsieur Bishop ? "

^^ Assuredly, sire."

" And vou, Abbe du Chavla ? "

The emaciated priest spoke for the first
time, a tinge of colour creeping into his corpse-
like cheeks, and a more lurid light in his deep-
set eyes.

'' I know not about assuring your salyation,
sire. I think it would take yery much more
to do that. But there caimot be a doubt as
to your damnation if you do not do it."

The king started angrily, and frowned at
the speaker.

'' Your words are somewhat more curt than
I am accustomed to," he remarked.

'' In such a matter it were cruel indeed to
leaye you in doubt. I say again that your
soul's fate hangs upon the balance. Heresy
is a mortal sin. Thousands of heretics would

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 191

turn to the Church if you did but give the
word. Therefore these thousands of mortal
sins are all upon your soul. What hope for it
then, if you do not amend ? "

'' My father and my grandfather tolerated
them."

'' Then, without some special extension of
the grace of God, your father and your grand-
father are burning in hell."

" Insolent ! " The king sprang from his
seat.

" Sire, I will say what I hold to be the truth
were you fifty times a king. What care I for
any man when I know that I speak for the
King of kings ? See ; are these the limbs of
one who would shrink from testifying to
truth ? " With a sudden movement he threw
back the long sleeves of his gown and shot
out his white fleshless arms. The bones were
all knotted and bent and screwed into the
most fantastic shapes. Even Louvois, the
hardened man of the court, and his two
brother priests, shuddered at the sight of

192 THE REFUGEES.

those dreadful limbs. He raised them above
his head and turned his burning eyes upwards.

'' Heaven has chosen me to testify for the
faith before now/' said he. " I heard that
blood was wanted to nourish the young
church of Siam, and so to Siam I jour-
neyed. They tore me open ; they crucified
me ; they wrenched and split my bones. I
was left as a dead man, yet God has breathed
the breath of life back into me that I may
help in this great work of the regeneration
of France."

" Your sufferings, father/' said Louis, re-
suming his seat, "give you every claim, both
upon the Church and upon me, who am its
special champion and protector. What would
you counsel, then, father, in the case of those
Huguenots who refuse to change ? "

'' They would change," cried Du Chayla,
with a drawn smile upon his ghastly face.
'' They must bend or they must break. What
matter if they be ground to powder, if we can
but build up a complete Church in the land ? "

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 193

His deep-set eyes glowed with ferocity, and
he shook one bony hand in savage wrath
above his head.

'' The cruelty with which you have been
used, then, has not taught you to be more
tender to others."

'' Tender ! To heretics I No, sire, my own
pains have taught me that the world and the
flesh are as nothing, and that the truest
charity to another is to capture his soul at all
risks to his vile body. I should have these
Huguenot souls, sire, though I turned France
into a shambles to gain them."

Louis was evidently deeply impressed by the
fearless words and the wild earnestness of the
speaker. He leaned his head upon his hand
for a little time, and remained sunk in the
deepest thought.

" Besides, sire," said Pere La Chaise softly,
'' there would be little need for these stronger
measures of which the good Abb6 speaks. As
I have already remarked to you, you are so
beloved in your kingdom that the mere assur-

VOL. II. 13

194 THE REFUGEES.

ance that you had expressed your will upon
the subject would be enough to turn them all
to the true faith."

" I wish that I could think so, father, I wish
that I could think so. But what is this ? "

It was his valet who had half opened the
door.

" Captain de Catinat is here, who desires to
see you at once, sire."

" Ask the captain to enter. Ah I " A
happy thought seemed to have struck him.
" We shall see what love for me will do in
such a matter, for if it is anywhere to be found
it must be among my own body servants."

The guardsman had arrived that instant
from his long ride, and leaving Amos Green
with the horses, he had come on at once, all
dusty and travel-stained, to carry his message
to the king. He entered now, and stood with
the quiet ease of a man who is used to such
scenes, his hand raised in a salute.

'' What news, captain ? "

''Major de Brissac bade me tell you, sire^

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 195

that he held the castle of Portillac, that the
lady is safe, and that her husband is a
prisoner."

Louis and his wife exchanged a quick
glance of relief

'' That is well/' said he. '' By-the-way,
captain, you have served me in many ways
of late, and always with success. I hear,
Louvois, that De la Salle is dead of the small-
pox."

'' He died yesterday, sire."

''Then I desire that you make out the
vacant commission of major to Monsieur de
Catinat. Let me be the first to congratulate
you, major, upon your promotion, though you
will need to exchange the blue coat for the
pearl and gray of the mousquetaires. We
cannot spare you from the household, you see."

De Catinat kissed the hand which the mon-
arch held out to him.

'' May I be worthy of your kindness, sire ! "

''You would do what you could to serve
me, would you not ? "

196 THE REFUGEES.

'' My life is yours, sire."

^^ Very good Then I shall put yom^ fidehty
to the proof."

'' I am ready for any proof."

'^ It is not a very severe one. You see this
paper upon the table. It is an order that
all the Huguenots in my dominions shall give
up their errors, under pain of banishment
or captivity. Now I have hopes that there
are many of my faithful subjects who are at
fault in this matter, but who will abjure it
when they learn that it is my clearly expressed
wish that they should do so. It would be
a great joy to me to find that it was so, for
it would be a pain to me to use force against
any man who bears the name of Frenchman.
Do you follow^ me ? "

''Yes, sire." The young man had turned
deadly pale, and he shifted his feet, and
opened and clasped his hands. He had faced
death a dozen times and under many different
forms, but never had he felt such a sinking of
the heart as came over him now.

THE FALL OF THE CATIXATS. 197

'' You are yourself a Huguenot, I under-
stand. I would gladly have you, then, as the
first fruit of this great measure. Let us hear
from your own lips that you, for one, are
ready to follow the lead of your king in this as
in other things."

The young guardsman still hesitated, though
his doubts were rather as to how he should
frame his reply than as to what its substance
should be. He felt that in an instant Fortune
had wiped out all the good turns which she
had done him during his past life, and that
now, far from being in her debt, he held a
heavy score against her. The king arched
his eye-brows and drummed his fingers im-
patiently as he glanced at the downcast face
and dejected bearing.

^^ Why all this thought?" he cried. '^ You
are a man whom I have raised and whom I
will raise. He w4io has a major's epaulets at
thirtv mav carry a marshal's baton at fiftv.
Your past is mine, and your future shall be no
less so. What other hopes have you ? "

198 THE REFUGEES.

'' I have none, sire, outside your service."

'' Why this silence, then ? Why do you not
give the assurance which I demand ? "

'' I cannot do it, sire."

'' You cannot do it ! "

'' It is impossible. I should have no more
peace in my mind, or respect for myself, if I

knew that for the sake of position or wealth I
had given up the faith of my fathers."

^^Man, you are surely mad! There is all
that a man could covet upon one side, and
what is there upon the other ? "

'' There is my honour."

"And is it, then, a dishonour to embrace
my religion ? "

" It would be a dishonour to me to embrace
it for the sake of gain without believing in
it."

''Then believe it."

" Alas, sire, a man cannot force himself to
believe. Belief is a thing which must come to
him, not he to it."

" On my word, father," said Louis, glancing

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 199

with a bitter smile at his Jesuit confessor,
'' I shall have to pick the cadets of the
household from your seminary, since my
officers have turned casuists and theologians.
So, for the last time, you refuse to obey my
. request?"

'' Oh, sire " De Catinat took a step

forward with outstretched hands and tears in
his eyes.

But the king checked him with a gesture.
'' I desire no protestations," said he. '' I
judge a man by his acts. Do you abjure or
not?"

''I cannot, sire."

'' You see," said Louis, turning again to the
Jesuit, '' it will not be as easy as you think."

'' This man is obstinate, it is true, but many
others will be more yielding."

The king shook his head. '' I would that I
knew what to do," said he. '^ Madame, I
know that you, at least, will ever give me the
best advice. You have heard all that has been
said. What do you recommend ? "

200 THE REFUGEES.

She kept her eyes still fixed upon her
tapestry, but her voice was firm and clear as
she answered :

''You have yourself said that you are the
eldest son of the Church. If the eldest son
desert her, then who will do her bidding?
And there is truth, too, in what the holy Abb6
has said. You may imperil your own soul by
condoning this sin of heresy. It grows and
flourishes, and if it be not rooted out now, it
may choke the truth as weeds and briers
choke the wheat."

" There are districts in France now," said
Bossuet, '' where a church is not to be seen in
a day's journey, and where all the folk, from
the nobles to the peasants, are of the same
accursed faith. So it is in the C^vennes,
where the people are as fierce and rugged as
their own mountains. Heaven guard the
priests who have to bring them back from
their errors "

" Whom should I send on so perilous a
task ? " asked Louis.

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 201

The Abb6 du Cliayla was down in an
instant upon his knees with his gaunt hands
outstretched. '' Send me, sire I Me ! " he
cried. ''I have never asked a favour of you,
and never will again. But I am the man who
could break these people. Send me with your
message to the people of the Ce venues."

'' God help the people of the Ce venues ! "
muttered Louis, as he looked with mingled
respect and loathing at the emaciated face and
fiery eyes of the fanatic. '' Very well, Abbe,"
he added aloud; ''you shall go to the Ce-

vennes."

Perhaps for an instant there came upon the
stern priest some premonition of that dreadful
morning when, as he crouched in a corner of
his burning home, fifty daggers were to rasp
against each other in his body. He sunk his
face in his hands, and a shudder passed over
his gaunt frame. Then he rose, and folding
his arms, he resumed his impassive attitude.
Louis took up the pen from the table, and
drew^ the paper towards him.

202 THE REFUGEES.

'' I have the same counsel, then, from all of
you," said he — ''from you, bishop; from you,
father ; from you, madame ; from you, abb^ ;
and from you, Louvois. Well, if ill come from
it, may it not be visited upon me ! But what
is this ? "

De Catinat had taken a step forward with
his hand outstretched. His ardent, impetuous
nature had suddenly broken down all the
barriers of caution, and he seemed for the
instant to see that countless throng of men,
women, and children of his own faith, all
unable to say a word for themselves, and all
looking to him as their champion and spokes-
man. He had thought little of such matters
when all was well, but now, when danger
threatened, the deeper side of his nature was
moved, and he felt how light a thing is life
and fortune when weighed against a great
abiding cause and principle.

" Do not sign it, sire," he cried. '' You will
live to wish that vour hand had withered ere
it grasped that pen. I know it, sire ; I am

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 203

sure of it. Consider all these helpless folk
— the little children, the young girls, the old
and the feeble. Their creed is themselves.
As well ask the leaves to change the twigs on
which they grow. They could not change.
At most you could but hope to turn them
from honest folk into hypocrites. And why
should you do it ? They honour you. They
love you. They harm none. They are
proud to serve in your armies, to fight
for you, to work for you, to build up the
greatness of your kingdom. I implore you,
sire, to think again before you sign an
order which will bring misery and desolation
to so many."

For a moment the king had hesitated as he
listened to the short abrupt sentences in which
the soldier pleaded for his fellows, but his
face hardened again as he remembered how
even his own personal entreaty had been
unable to prevail with this young dandy of
the court.

'' France's religion should be that of France's

204 THE REFUGEES.

king," said he, ^^and if my own guardsmen
thwart me in such a matter, I must find
others who will be more faithful. That
major's commission in the mousquetaires must
go to Captain de Belmont, Louvois."
''Very good, sire."

" And De Catinat's commission may be
transferred to Lieutenant Labadoyere."
''Very good, sire."

" And I am to serve you no longer ? "
" You are too dainty for my service."
De Catinat's arms fell listlessly to his side,
and his head sunk forward upon his breast.
Then, as he realised the ruin of all the hopes
of his life, and the cruel injustice with which
he had been treated, he broke into a cry of
despair, and rushed from the room with the
hot tears of impotent anger running down his
face. So, sobbing, gesticulating, with coat
unbuttoned and hat awry, he burst into the
stable where placid Amos Green was smoking
his pipe and watching with critical eyes the
grooming of the horses.

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 205

'' What in thunder is the matter now ? " he
asked, holding his pipe by the bowl, while the
blue wreaths curled up from his lips.

'' This sword/' cried the Frenchman '' I

have no right to wear it ! I shall break it I "

" Well, and I'll break my knife too if it will
hearten you up."

'' And these," cried De Catinat, tugging at
his silver shoulder-straps, '' they must go."

''Ah, you draw ahead of me there, for I
never had any. But come, friend, let me
know the trouble, that I may see if it may not
be mended."

" To Paris ! to Paris I " shouted the guards-
man, frantically. ''If I am ruined, I may
yet be in time to save them. The horses,
quick ! "

It was clear to the American that some
sudden calamity had befallen, so he aided
his comrade and the grooms to saddle and
bridle.

Five minutes later they were flying upon
their way, and in little more than an hour

206 THE REFUGEES.

their steeds, all reeking and foam-flecked,
were pulled up outside the high house in the
Eue St. Martin. De Catinat sprang from his
saddle and rushed up stairs, while Amos
followed in his own leisurely fashion.

The old Huguenot and his beautiful
daughter were seated at one side of the
great fireplace, her hand in his, and they
sprang up together, she to throw herself
with a glad cry into the arms of her lover,
and he to grasp the hand which his nephew
held out to him.

At the other side of the firej^lace, with a
v^ery long pipe in his mouth and a cup of wine
upon a settle beside him, sat a strange-looking
man, with grizzled hair and beard, a fleshy
red projecting nose, and two little gray eyes,
which twinkled out from under huge brindled
brows. His long thin face was laced and
seamed with wrinkles, crossing and recrossing
everywhere, but fanning out in hundreds from
the corners of his eyes. It was set in an
unchanging expression, and as it was of the

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 207

same colour all over, as dark as the darkest
walnut, it might have been some quaint figure-
head cut out of a coarse-grained wood. He
was clad in a blue serge jacket, a pair of red
breeches smeared at the knees with tar, clean
gray worsted stockings, large steel buckles
over his coarse square-toed shoes, and beside
him, balanced upon the top of a thick oaken
cudgel, was a weather-stained silver-laced hat.
His gray-shot hair was gathered up behind
into a short stiff tail, and a seaman's hanger,
with a brass handle, was girded to his waist
by a tarnished leather l3elt.

De Catinat had been too occupied to take
notice of this singular individual, but Amos
Green gave a shout of delight at the sight of
him, and ran forward to greet him. The
other's wooden face relaxed so far as to show
two tobacco-stained fangs, and, without rising,
he held out a great red hand, of the size and
shape of a moderate spade.

'' Why, Captain Ephraim," cried Amos in
English, '' who ever would have thought of

208 THE REFUGEES.

finding you here ? De Catinat, this is my old
friend Ephraim Savage, under whose charge I
came here."

'' Anchor's apeak, lad, and the hatches
down," said the stranger, in the peculiar
drawling voice which the New-Englanders
had retained from their ancestors, the English
Puritans.

" And when do you sail ? "

'' As soon as your foot is on her deck,
if Providence serve us with wind and
tide. And how has all gone with thee,
Amos ? "

'' Right well. I have much to tell you of"

'' I trust that you have held yourself apart
from all their popish devilry."

'' Yes, yes, Ephraim."

'' And have had no truck with the scarlet
woman."

'' Xo, no ; but what is it now ? "

The grizzled hair was bristling with rage,
and the little gray eyes were gleaming from
under the heavy tufts. Amos, following their

UPB

THE FALL OF THE CATINATS. 209

gaze, saw that De Catiiiat was seated with
his arm round Adele, while her head rested
upon his shoulder.

'' Ah, if I but knew their snip-snap, lippetty-
chippetty lingo I Saw one ever such a sight !
Amos, lad, what is the French for a ' shame-
less hussy' ? "

" Nay, nay, Ephraim. Surely one may see
such a sight, and think no harm of it, on our
side of the water.

'' Never, Amos. In no godly country."

'' Tut ! 1 have seen folks courting in New
York."

'^ Ah, New York ! I said in no godly
country. I cannot answer for New York or
Virginia. South of Cape Cod, or of New
Haven at the furthest, there is no saying
what folk w^ll do. Very sure I am that in
Boston or Salem or Plymouth she would see
the bridewell and he the stocks for half as
much. Ah ! " He shook his head and bent
his brows at the guilty couple.

But they and their old relative were far too

VOL. II. 14

210 THE REFUGEES.

engrossed with their own affairs to give a
thought to the Puritan seaman. De Catinat
had told his tale in a few short, bitter sen-
tences, the injustice that had been done to
him, his dismissal from the king's service,
and the ruin which had come upon the
Huguenots of France. A dele, as is the
angel instinct of woman, thought only of her
lover and his misfortunes as she listened to
his storv, but the old merchant tottered to
his feet when he heard of the revocation of the
edict, and stood with shaking limbs, staring
about him in bewilderment.

^^What am I to do?" he cried. ^^What
am I to do ? I am too old to begin my life
again."

'' Never fear, uncle," said De Catinat,
heartily. '' There are other lands beyond
France."

'' But not for me. No, no ; I am too old.
Lord, but Thy hand is heavy upon Thy
servants. Now is the vial opened, and the
carved work of the sanctuary thrown down.

THE FALL OF THE CATINAT8. 211

Ah, what shall I do, and whither shall I
turn ? " He wrung his hands in his per-
plexity.

''What is amiss with him, then, Amos?"
asked the seaman. " Though I know nothing
of what he says, yet I can see that he flies a
distress signal."

" He and his must leave the country,
Ephraim."

''And why?"

" Because they are Protestants, and the
king will not abide their creed."

Ephraim Savage was across the room in
an instant, and had enclosed the old mer-
chant's thin hand in his own great knotted
fist. There was a brotherly sympathy in his
strong grip and rugged weather-stained face
which held up the other's courage as no
words could have done.

" What is the French for ' the scarlet
woman,' Amos ? " he asked, glancing over his
shoulder. " Tell this man that we shall see
him through. Tell him that we've got a

212 THE REFUGEES.

country where he'll just lit m like a bung in
a barrel. Tell him that religion is free to all
there, and not a papist nearer than Baltimore
or the Capuchins of the Penobscot. Tell him
that if he wants to come, the Golden Rod is
waiting with her anchor apeak and her cargo
aboard. Tell him what you like, so long as
you make him come."

''Then we must come at once/' said De
Catinat, as he listened to the cordial message
which was conveyed to his uncle. " To-night
the orders will be out, and to-morrow it may
be too late."

" But my business 1 " cried the merchant.

" Take what valuables you can and leave
the rest. Better that than lose all, and
liberty into the bargain."

And so at last it w^as arranged. That very
night, within five minutes of the closing of the
gates, there passed out of Paris a small party
of five, three upon horseback, and two in a
closed carriage which bore several weighty
boxes upon the top. They were the first

THE FALL OF THE CATINAT8. 213

leaves flying before the hurricane, the earliest
of that great multitude who were within the
next few months to stream along every road
which led from France, finding their journey's
end too often in galley, dungeon, and torture
chamber, and yet flooding over the frontiers
in numbers sufficient to change the industries
and modify the characters of all the neigh-
bouring peoples. Like the Israelites of old,
they had been driven from their homes at the
bidding of an angry king, who, even while he
exiled them, threw every difficulty in the
way of their departure. Like them, too,
there were none of them who could hope to
reach their promised land without grievous
wanderings, penniless, friendless, and desti-
tute. What passages befell these pilgrims
in their travels, what dangers they met and
overcame in the land of the Swiss, on the
Rhine, among the Walloons, in England, in Ire-
land, in Berlin, and even in far-off* Russia, has
still to be written. This one little group, how-
ever, whom we know, we may follow in their

214 THE REFUGEES.

venturesome journey, and see the chances
which befell them upon that great continent
which had lain fallow for so long, sown only
with the weeds of humanity, but which was
now at last about to quicken into such a
glorious life.

END OF VOL. II.

ABERDEEN UNIVEKSITY PRESS.

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