"I am greatly honoured," M. de Rosny replied, gazing at him eagerly. "Yet, who told you I was here?"
"I saw you pa.s.s under a lamp in the street," the stranger answered. "I knew your horse first, and you afterwards, and bade a groom follow you. Believe me," he added, with a gesture of the hand, "you have nothing to fear from me."
"I accept the a.s.surance in the spirit in which it is offered," my companion answered with a graceful bow, "and think myself fortunate in being recognised"-he paused a moment and then continued-"by a Frenchman and a man of honour."
The stranger shrugged his shoulders. "Your pardon, then," he said, "if I seem abrupt. My time is short. I want to do the best with it I can. Will you favour me?"
I was for withdrawing, but M. de Rosny ordered Maignan to place lights in the next room, and, apologising to me very graciously, retired thither with the stranger, leaving me relieved indeed by these peaceful appearances, but full of wonder and conjectures who this might be, and what the visit portended. At one moment I was inclined to identify the stranger with M. de Rosny"s brother; at another with the English amba.s.sador; and then, again, a wild idea that he might be M. de Bruhl occurred to me. The two remained together about a quarter of an hour and then came out, the stranger leading the way, and saluting me politely as he pa.s.sed through the room. At the door he turned to say, "At nine o"clock, then?"
"At nine o"clock," M. de Rosny replied, holding the door open. "You will excuse me if I do not descend, Marquis?"
"Yes, go back, my friend," the stranger answered. And, lighted by Maignan, whose face on such occasions could a.s.sume the most stolid air in the world, he disappeared down the stairs, and I heard him go out.
M. de Rosny turned to me, his eyes sparkling with joy, his face and mien full of animation. "The King of Navarre is better," he said. "He is said to be out of danger. What do you think of that, my friend?"
"That is the best news I have heard for many a day," I answered. And I hastened to add, that France and the Religion had reason to thank G.o.d for His mercy.
"Amen to that," my patron replied reverently. "But that is not all-that is not all." And he began to walk up and down the room humming the 118th Psalm a little above his breath-
La voici l"heureuse journee Que Dieu a faite a plein desir; Par nous soit joie demenee, Et prenons en elle plaisir.
He continued, indeed, to walk up and down the floor so long, and with so joyful a countenance and demeanour, that I ventured, at last to remind him of my presence, which he had clearly forgotten. "Ha! to be sure," he said, stopping short and looking at me with the utmost good-humour. "What time is it? Seven. Then until nine o"clock, my friend, I crave your indulgence. En fin, until that time I must keep counsel. Come, I am hungry still. Let us sit down, and this time I hope we may not be interrupted. Simon, set us on a fresh bottle. Ha! ha! VIVENT LE ROI ET LE ROI DE NAVARRE!" And again he fell to humming the same psalm-
O Dieu eternel, je te prie, Je te prie, ton roi maintiens: O Dieu, je te prie et reprie, Sauve ton roi et l"entretiens!
doing so with a light in his eyes and a joyous emphasis, which impressed me the more in a man ordinarily so calm and self-contained. I saw that something had occurred to gratify him beyond measure, and, believing his statement that this was not the good news from La Ganache only, I waited with the utmost interest and anxiety for the hour of nine, which had no sooner struck than our former visitor appeared with the same air of mystery and disguise which had attended him before.
M. de Rosny, who had risen on hearing his step and had taken up his cloak, paused with it half on and half off, to cry anxiously, "All is well, is it not?"
"Perfectly," the stranger replied, with a nod.
"And my friend?"
Yes, on condition that you answer for his discretion and fidelity." And the stranger glanced involuntarily at me who stood uncertain whether to hold my ground or retire.
"Good," M. de Rosny cried. Then he turned to me with a mingled air of dignity and kindness, and continued: "This is the gentleman. M. de Marsac, I am honoured with permission to present you to the Marquis de Rambouillet, whose interest and protection I beg you to deserve, for he is a true Frenchman and a patriot whom I respect."
M. de Rambouillet saluted me politely. "Of a Brittany family, I think?" he said.
I a.s.sented; and he replied with something complimentary. But afterwards he continued to look at me in silence with a keenness and curiosity I did not understand. At last, when M. de Rosny"s impatience had reached a high pitch, the marquis seemed impelled to add something. "You quite understand M. de Rosny?" he said. "Without saying anything disparaging of M. de Marsac, who is, no doubt, a man of honour"-and he bowed to me very low-"this is a delicate matter, and you will introduce no one into it, I am sure, whom you cannot trust as yourself."
"Precisely," M. de Rosny replied, speaking drily, yet with a grand air which fully matched his companion"s. "I am prepared to trust this gentleman not only with my life but with my honour."
"Nothing more remains to be said then," the marquis rejoined, bowing to me again. "I am glad to have been the occasion of a declaration so flattering to you, sir."
I returned his salute in silence, and obeying M. de Rosny"s muttered direction put on, my cloak and sword. M. de Rosny took up his pistols.
"You will have no need of those," the Marquis said with a high glance.
"Where we are going, no," my companion answered, calmly continuing to dispose them about him. "But the streets are dark and not too safe."
M. de Rambouillet laughed. "That is the worst of you Huguenots," he said. "You never know when to lay suspicion aside."
A hundred retorts sprang to my lips. I thought of the Bartholomew, of the French fury of Antwerp, of half a dozen things which make my blood boil to this day. But M. de Rosny"s answer was the finest of all. "That is true, I am afraid," he said quietly. "On the other hand, you Catholics-take the late M. de Guise for instance-have the habit of erring on the other side, I think, and sometimes trust too far."
The marquis, without making any answer to this home-thrust, led the way out, and we followed, being joined at the door of the house by a couple of armed lackeys, who fell in behind us. We went on foot. The night was dark, and the prospect out of doors was not cheering. The streets were wet and dirty, and notwithstanding all our care we fell continually into pitfalls or over unseen obstacles. Crossing the PARVIS of the cathedral, which I remembered, we plunged in silence into an obscure street near the river, and so narrow that the decrepit houses shut out almost all view of the sky. The gloom of our surroundings, no less than my ignorance of the errand on which we were bound, filled me with anxiety and foreboding. My companions keeping strict silence, however, and taking every precaution to avoid being recognised, I had no choice but to do likewise.
I could think, and no more. I felt myself borne along by an irresistible current, whither and for what purpose I could not tell; an experience to an extent strange at my age the influence of the night and the weather. Twice we stood aside to let a party of roisterers go by, and the excessive care M. de Rambouillet evinced on these occasions to avoid recognition did not tend to rea.s.sure me or make me think more lightly of the unknown business on which I was bound.
Reaching at last an open s.p.a.ce, our leader bade us in a low voice be careful and follow him closely. We did so and crossed in this way and in single file a narrow plank or wooden bridge; but whether water ran below or a dry ditch only, I could not determine. My mind was taken up at the moment with the discovery which I had just made, that the dark building, looming huge and black before us with a single light twinkling here and there at great heights, was the Castle of Blois.
CHAPTER XV. VILAIN HERODES.
All the distaste and misliking I had expressed earlier in the day for the Court of Blois recurred with fresh force in the darkness and gloom; and though, booted and travel-stained as we were, I did not conceive it likely that we should be obtruded on the circle about the king, I felt none the less an oppressive desire to be through with our adventure, and away from the ill-omened precincts in which I found myself. The darkness prevented me seeing the faces of my companions; but on M. de Rosny, who was not quite free himself, I think, from the influences of the time and place, twitching my sleeve to enforce vigilance, I noted that the lackeys had ceased to follow us, and that we three were beginning to ascend a rough staircase cut in the rock. I gathered, though the darkness limited my view behind as well as in front to a few twinkling lights, that we were mounting the scarp from the moat; to the side wall of the castle; and I was not surprised when the marquis muttered to us to stop, and knocked softly on the wood of a door.
M. de Rosny might have spared the touch he had laid on my sleeve, for by this time I was fully and painfully sensible of the critical position in which we stood, and was very little likely to commit an indiscretion. I trusted he had not done so already! No doubt-it flashed across me while we waited-he had taken care to safeguard himself. But how often, I reflected, had all safeguards been set aside and all precautions eluded by those to whom he was committing himself! Guise had thought himself secure in this very building, which we were about to enter. Coligny had received the most absolute of safe-conducts from those to whom we were apparently bound. The end in either case had been the same-the confidence of the one proving of no more avail than the wisdom of the other. What if the King of France thought to make his peace with his Catholic subjects-offended by the murder of Guise-by a second murder of one as obnoxious to them as he was precious to their arch-enemy in the South? Rosny was sagacious indeed; but then I reflected with sudden misgiving that he was young, ambitious, and bold.
The opening of the door interrupted without putting an end to this train of apprehension. A faint light shone out; so feebly as to illumine little more than the stairs at our feet. The marquis entered at once, M. de Rosny followed, I brought up the rear; and the door was closed by a man who stood behind it. We found ourselves crowded together at the foot of a very narrow staircase, which the doorkeeper-a stolid pikeman in a grey uniform, with a small lanthorn swinging from the crosspiece of his halberd-signed to us to ascend. I said a word to him, but he only stared in answer, and M. de Rambouillet, looking back and seeing what I was about, called to me that it was useless, as the man was a Swiss and spoke no French.
This did not tend to rea.s.sure me; any more than did the chill roughness of the wall which my hand touched as I groped upwards, or the smell of bats which invaded my nostrils and suggested that the staircase was little used and belonged to a part of the castle fitted for dark and secret doings.
We stumbled in the blackness up the steps, pa.s.sing one door and then a second before M. de Rambouillet whispered to us to stand, and knocked gently at a third.
The secrecy, the darkness, and above all the strange arrangements made to receive us, filled me with the wildest conjectures. But when the door opened and we pa.s.sed one by one into a bare, unfurnished, draughty gallery, immediately, as I judged, under the tiles, the reality agreed with no one of my antic.i.p.ations. The place was a mere garret, without a hearth, without a single stool. Three windows, of which one was roughly glazed, while the others were filled with oiled paper, were set in one wall; the others displaying the stones and mortar without disguise or ornament. Beside the door through which we had entered stood a silent figure in the grey uniform I had seen below, his lanthorn on the floor at his feet. A second door at the farther end of the gallery, which was full twenty paces long, was guarded in like manner. A couple of lanthorns stood in the middle of the floor, and that was all.
Inside the door, M. de Rambouillet with his finger on his lip stopped us, and we stood a little group of three a pace in front of the sentry, and with the empty room before us. I looked at M. de Rosny, but he was looking at Rambouillet. The marquis had his back towards me, the sentry was gazing into vacancy; so that baffled in my attempt to learn anything from the looks of the other actors in the scene, I fell back on my ears. The rain dripped outside and the moaning wind rattled the cas.e.m.e.nts; but mingled with these melancholy sounds-which gained force, as such things always do, from the circ.u.mstances in which we were placed and our own silence-I fancied I caught the distant hum of voices and music and laughter. And that, I know not why, brought M. de Guise again to my mind.
The story of his death, as I had heard it from that accursed monk in the inn on the Claine, rose up in all its freshness, with all its details. I started when M. de Rambouillet coughed. I shivered when Rosny shifted his feet. The silence grew oppressive. Only the stolid men in grey seemed unmoved, unexpectant; so that I remember wondering whether it was their nightly duty to keep guard over an empty garret, the floor strewn with sc.r.a.ps of mortar and ends of tiles.
The interruption, when it came at last, came suddenly. The sentry at the farther end of the gallery started and fell back a pace. Instantly the door beside him opened and a man came in, and closing it quickly behind him, advanced up the room with an air of dignity, which even his strange appearance and attire could not wholly destroy.
He was of good stature and bearing, about forty years old as I judged, his wear a dress of violet velvet with black points cut in the extreme of the fashion. He carried a sword but no ruff, and had a cup and ball of ivory-a strange toy much in vogue among the idle-suspended from his wrist by a ribbon. He was lean and somewhat narrow, but so far I found little fault with him. It was only when my eye reached his face, and saw it rouged like a woman"s and surmounted by a little turban, that a feeling of scarcely understood disgust seized me, and I said to myself, "This is the stuff of which kings" minions are made!"
To my surprise, however, M. de Rambouillet went to meet him with the utmost respect, sweeping the dirty floor with his bonnet, and bowing to the very ground. The newcomer acknowledged his salute with negligent kindness. Remarking pleasantly "You have brought a friend, I think?" he looked towards us with a smile.
"Yes, sire, he is here," the marquis answered, stepping aside a little. And with the word I understood that this was no minion, but the king himself: Henry, the Third of the name, and the last of the great House of Valois, which had ruled France by the grace of G.o.d for two centuries and a half! I stared at him, and stared at him, scarcely believing what I saw. For the first time in my life I was in the presence of the king!
Meanwhile M. de Rosny, to whom he was, of course, no marvel, had gone forward and knelt on one knee. The king raised him graciously, and with an action which, viewed apart from his woman"s face and silly turban, seemed royal and fitting. "This is good of you, Rosny," he said. "But it is only what I expected of you."
"Sire," my companion answered, "your Majesty has no more devoted servant than myself, unless it be the king my master."
"By my faith," Henry answered with energy-"and if I am not a good churchman, whatever those rascally Parisians say, I am nothing-by my faith, I think I believe you!"
"If your Majesty would believe me in that and in some other things also," M. de Rosny answered, "it would be very well for France." Though he spoke courteously, he threw so much weight and independence into his words that I thought of the old proverb, "A good master, a bold servant."
"Well, that is what we are here to see," the king replied. "But one tells me one thing," he went on fretfully, "and one another, and which am I to believe?"