"Take what you like," said Law. "I have said it, and I mean it. It is for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as a faithful man."
"But, Monsieur, these things have very great value," said the Swiss.
"Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels instead?"
"By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said."
"Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?"
"How do you mean?"
"Why, I want none of them."
"Why?"
"Because Monsieur wants none of them."
"Fie! Your case is quite different from mine."
"Perhaps, but I want none of them."
"Are you afraid?"
"Monsieur!"
"Do you not think them genuine stones?"
"a.s.suredly," said the Swiss, "else why should we have cared for them among our gems?"
"Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these jewels and keep them for your own."
"But no," replied the Swiss. "It is only after Monsieur."
"What? Myself?"
"a.s.suredly."
"Then, for the sake of precedent," said Law, "let me see. Well, then, I will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us, thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single stone. Now, do you help yourself."
"Since Monsieur limits himself to so little," said the Swiss, st.u.r.dily, "I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear it long in memory of your many kindnesses."
Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand.
"By heaven, I find you of good blood!" said he. "My friend, I thank you.
And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this.
We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it."
For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged in the affairs before him, buried himself in the ma.s.s of scattered books and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him.
"There," said he. "This should conclude it all. It should all be plain enough now to those who follow."
"Monsieur is weary," mentioned the faithful attendant. "He would have some refreshment."
"Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if you can, have my best coach brought to the front door."
"It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest."
"Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We might slip out through the back door, but "tis not thus John Law will go from Paris."
The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless, buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and shaken from his ordinary self-control.
"Monsieur," said he, "come. I have at last the coach at the door.
Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence."
Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed, his eyes gazing straight before him.
"But, Monsieur," again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, "if I may interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is gone."
"So," said Law. "They were afraid?"
"Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry that they will burn the house--that should you appear, they will have your blood at once."
"And are you not afraid?" asked Law.
"I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?"
Law shrugged his shoulders. "There are many of them, and we are but two," said he. "For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we quite ready for the journey?"
"Quite ready, as you have directed."
"Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?"
"They are here."
"And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?"
"Here in the purse."
"And I think you have also the single diamond."
"It is here."
"Then," said Law, "let us go."
He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the great hotel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with richest tapestries and n.o.ble paintings. The click of his heel on a chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people.
The great building was silent, empty.
"What! Are you, then, here?" he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning n.o.bles, those thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house in which he no longer held authority.
Without, but the door"s thickness from where he stood, there arose a tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control.