"It seems that Madame has changed her mind."
"I do not follow you. Do you know what you are saying?" His tone was coldly stern.
My temper began to rise at this. I put down the ribbons and said: "Yes, I think I do--or else why has Madame come to Paris, and what is this story I hear about a Monsieur de Gomeron? If that is true it ends the matter."
I got up as I spoke, and began to pace the room in my excitement.
"Had I been twenty years younger. Monsieur d"Auriac, I would have paraded you for what you have said; but my cloth and my age forbid it.
My age, not because it has weakened my arm, but because it has taught me to think. My young friend, you are a fool."
"I know I have been," I said bitterly, "but I shall be so no longer."
"And, in saying so, confirm yourself in your folly. Are you so beside yourself that you condemn unheard! Sit down, man, and hear what I have to say. It will not keep you long. You can leave Paris five minutes after, if you like."
I came back to my seat, and Palin continued: "You appear to be offended at Madame de la Bidache"s coming to Paris?"
"I am not offended--I have no right to be."
"Well, it will interest you to hear that her coming to Paris was forced. That practically we are prisoners."
"You mean to say that he--the King--has gone as far as that!"
"I mean what I say--Madame cannot leave her hotel, except to go to the Louvre, without his permission."
"But this is infamous!"
"In an almost similar case this was what the daughter of de C[oe]uvres said, and yet she died d.u.c.h.esse de Beaufort. But are you satisfied now?"
"I am," I said in a low tone, and then, with an effort, "but there is still the other matter."
"You are exacting--are you sure you have a right to ask that?"
Luckily, it was too dark for Palin to see my eyes turn to the tangle of crushed ribbons on the table. How much did the Huguenot know? I could not tell, and after all I had no right to ask the question I had, and said so.
"I have no right, but, if it is true, it means that the affair is at an end."
"If it is true?"
"Then it is not?" My heart began to beat faster.
"I did not say so. Remember that the alternative is Monsieur le Baron d"Ayen."
"There is another."
"And that is?"
"Death."
"We are Huguenots," he answered coldly, "and believe in the word of G.o.d. We do not kill our souls."
"Great heavens! man! Tell me if it is true or not? Do not draw this out. In so many words, is Madame de la Bidache pledged to de Gomeron?"
"Most certainly not, but Biron and her nearest relative, Tremouille, have urged it on her as a means of escape. She has, however, given no answer."
"Then de Belin was wrong?"
"If you mean that the Compte de Belin said so, then he had no authority for the statement."
I took back the ribbons from the table and thrust them into their old resting-place, my face hot with shame at my unworthy suspicions.
"Palin," I said, "you were right. I am a fool."
"You are," he answered, "exactly what your father was before you at your age."
"My father--you knew him?"
"Yes--Raoul de Breuil, Sieur d"Auriac, and Governor of Provence. We were friends in the old days, and I owed him my life once, as did also Henry the Great, our King and master--in the days of his youth."
"And you never told me this?"
"I have told you now. I owe the house of Auriac my life twice over, and I recognise in this, as in all things, the hand of G.o.d. Young man, I have watched you, and you are worthy--be of good courage." He stretched out his hand, and I grasped it in silence.
"See here," he continued, "I have come to you like a thief in the twilight, because I have that to say which is for you alone. It is useless to appeal to the King. Our only chance is flight, and we have no one to rely on but you. Will you help us--help Madame?"
"Why need to ask? Have I not already said so? Am I not ready to die, if need be, to save her?"
"You are now," he said, "but I will not press that point. Then we, or rather I, can count on you?"
"To the end of my sword; but does not Madame know of this?"
"Not yet. Should it fall through, there would be only another bitter disappointment for her. It is, moreover, an idea that has but shaped itself with me to-day."
"Where do you propose going?"
"To Switzerland. There we would be safe, and there they are of our faith."
"Remember, Maitre Palin, that I am not"
"Look into your own heart and tell me that again at another time. Can you count on a sword or two?"
"If Jacques were only here!" I exclaimed.
And then, remembering my new man"s reputation, "They say Ravaillac is good, and I have a friend"--I bethought me of Belin--"upon whom I think I could rely."
"Better one blade of steel than two of soft iron, chevalier. We must do what we can with what we have."
"When do you propose starting?"