The Chevalier d'Auriac Part 20

'On the night of the fete at the Louvre.'

'And we meet?'

'Under the three limes in the Tuileries at compline.'

'I have but one horse at present--we must have more.'

'That is not hard--I will settle that with Pantin. He knows the spot exactly, and will have horses in readiness and guide you there, if need be.'

'I know it too, and will not fail you. G.o.d grant us success.'

'Amen!'

There was a silence of a moment, and then Palin arose. 'It grows darker and darker,' he said; 'I must go now--adieu!'--and he held out his hand.

'Not yet good-bye,' I said. 'I will accompany you to the end of the Malaquais at any rate. Ho! Ravaillac! My hat and cloak!'

There was no answer; but it seemed as if there was the sound of a stumble on the stairs outside the closed door, and then all was still.

'_Diable!_ That sounds odd,' I exclaimed; 'and 'tis so dark here I can hardly lay hands on anything. Oh! Here they are--now come along.'

As I opened the door to lead the way out I saw a flash of light on the staircase, and Madame Pan-tin appeared, bearing a lighted candle in her hand.

'I was coming to light your room, monsieur,' she said.

'It is good of you; but what is my new knave doing?'

'If Monsieur will step towards the loft, near Couronne's stall, he will see that Ravaillac is absorbed in his devotions--perhaps Maitre Palin would care to see also?'

'Not I,' said Palin.

'But, at any rate, his devotions should not interfere with his duties,' I burst out; 'it will take but a minute to bring him to his senses. Excuse me for a moment, Palin--Madame will see you as far as the door, and I will join you there.'

And without waiting for a reply I ran down towards the stables, and on coming there heard the voice of some one groaning and sobbing. Peering up into the darkness of the loft above me, I could see nothing, but heard Ravaillac distinctly, as he writhed in a mental agony and called on G.o.d to save him from the fires of h.e.l.l. The first thought that struck me was that the youth was ill, and, clambering up the ladder that led to the loft, I found him there in the dim light, kneeling before a crucifix, beating at his heart, and calling on himself as the most miserable of sinners.

'Ravaillac!'--and I put my hand on his shoulder--'what ails you, man?

Are you ill?' He turned his face up towards me; it was paler than ever, and he screamed out, 'My hour is come--leave me--leave me! Our Lady of Sorrows intercede for me, for I know not how to pray,' and with a half-smothered howl he fell forwards on his face before the crucifix, and, clasping it with both hands, began to sob out his entreaties to G.o.d anew. I saw that it was useless wasting further time on him, and that he had been taken with one of those frenzy fits that had before driven him to the Flagellants. I left him, therefore, to come to himself, and muttering that Belin might have told me of this foible, came backwards down the ladder to find that Palin and Madame Pantin had followed me, and were but a few yards away.

'Did you hear?' I asked, as I joined them; 'is it not strange?'

'He is wrestling with the enemy,' said Palin. 'Let him be.'

'He is a traitor,' burst out Annette. 'Monsieur le chevalier, I would send him packing tonight.'

'I can hardly do that,' I said, 'and, besides, agony such as that young man is pa.s.sing through does not mark a traitor.'

'As Monsieur pleases,' she answered, and then rapidly in my ear, 'Were it not for someone else's sake I would let you go your own way. Beware of him, I say.'

'_Corbleu!_ dame Annette! why not speak plainly? We are all friends here.'

But she only laughed mirthlessly, and led the way towards the door.

I accompanied Palin to the end of the Malaquais, speaking of many things on the way, and finally left him, as he insisted on my coming no further. So much had happened during the day, however, that I determined to cool my brain with a walk, and my intention was to cross the river and return to my lodging by the Pont aux Meunniers.

I hailed a boat, therefore, and was soon on the other side of the Seine, and, flinging my cloak over my arm, set off at a round pace, Annette's warning about Ravaillac buzzing in my head with the insistence of a fly. As I pa.s.sed the Louvre I saw that the windows were bright with lights, and heard the strains of music from within.

They were as merry within as I was sad without, and I did not linger there long. Keeping to the right of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, I pa.s.sed by the Magasins de Louvre, and then, slackening my pace, strolled idly down the Rue de St. Antoine. Down this great street it seemed as if the coming of the King had awakened the good citizens to life again, for there were lights at nearly all the windows, though the street itself was in darkness, except at the spots where a lantern or two swung on ropes stretched across the road, and lit up a few yards dimly around them. A few steps further brought me almost opposite a large house, over the entrance to which was a transparent signboard with a row of lamps behind it, and I saw I had stumbled across More's, the eating and gaming house kept by the most celebrated _traiteur_ in Paris. I had a mind to step in, more out of curiosity than anything else, when, just as I halted in hesitation before the door, two or three masked cavaliers came out singing and laughing, and in the foremost of them I had no difficulty in recognising the old reprobate, d'Ayen. Much as I would have avoided a quarrel, it could not be helped, for I had the door, and it was certainly my right to enter.

They, however, ranged themselves arm-in-arm before me, and, being in wine, began to laugh and jeer at my sombre attire.

'Does Monsieur le Huguenot think there is a _preche_ here?' said d'Ayen, bowing to me in mockery as he lifted his plumed hat.

I determined to show in my answer that I knew them.

'Let me pa.s.s. Monsieur d'Ayen,' I said coldly. 'We have too much between us to quarrel here.'

He knew me well enough, but pretended surprise.

'_Corb[oe]uf!_ Monsieur le chevalier, and so it is you! Gentlemen, allow me to present to you Monsieur le Chevalier d'Auriac, with whom I have an argument that we never could bring to a conclusion. We disagreed on the subject of landscape gardening.'

It was a hard pill to swallow, but I had made up my mind to retreat.

The Edict was fresh; a conflict there would have meant complete disaster; and there would be no chance for escape, as the pa.s.sage was getting crowded.

'I remember perfectly,' I said, carrying on d'Ayen's feint, 'but I am not prepared to discuss the matter now. I must go back to take some notes to refresh my memory.'

The man was blown with wine. He thought I feared him, and my words, which roused his companions to scornful laughter, made him do a foolish thing.

'At least take a reminder with you,' and he flung his soft, musk-scented glove in my face.

'A ring! a ring!' roared twenty voices, and, before I knew where I was, I was in the centre of a circle in the pa.s.sage, the slight figure of d'Ayen before me, and the point of his rapier glinting like a diamond--now in quarte, now in tierce.

He was of the old school of Dominic, and came at me with a _ca_!

_ca!_' and a flourish, springing back like a cat to avoid the return.

Had I been taught the use of the small sword by any less master than Touchet it would have gone hard with me, but, as it was, the third pa.s.s showed me the game was mine. The din around us was beyond description, for whilst More and his men were struggling to get close enough to separate us, the onlookers kept thrusting the hotel people back, and oaths, shrieks, wagers, screams for the watch, and half-a-hundred different exclamations and challenges were shouted out at once. I had no time to look around me, for, old as he was, my opponent displayed uncommon activity, and I could not but admire his courage. c.o.xcomb and fool, dishonoured though he was, under his flowered vest was no craven heart, and I spared him once for his age and twice for his spirit. But now came the warning cry of 'Watch! the watch!' behind me. D'Ayen thrust low in tierce; the parry was simple and I pinked him through the shoulder-joint--I could have hit him where I liked at that moment. He dropped his sword with a curse, and I found myself the next moment in a general _melee_, for the watch were using no mild measures to force an entrance, and there was a fine to-do in consequence.

Someone--I know not who--at this juncture cut the silken cord by which a huge ornamental lantern was hung above our heads. It fell with a crash, and in a moment we were in semi-darkness. I took the opportunity to dash forwards, flatten myself against the wall, and, by dint of a little management and more good luck, succeeded in getting within a yard or so of the door. Here, taking my occasion, I made a sudden spring forwards, upsetting a man in front of me, and dashed off down the street. Unfortunately, I was not so quick but that I was seen and instantly pursued by a portion of the watch on guard outside.

There was nothing for it but to run. Fast as I went, however, there were good men behind me, and I could not shake them off, though the streets were in gloom. The worst of the matter, however, was that the watch was being constantly reinforced by amateur guardians of the peace. Everyone who happened to be pa.s.sing, or heard the noise, seemed to think it his duty to join in the chase, and it was with a fine following that I headed towards the river. Heaven knows how I cursed my folly at having put my nose into More's, and I redoubled my pace as I heard, from the shouts to the right and to the left of me, that I was practically hemmed in, and that my only chance was to take to the river. They were close up to me when I reached the bank a few yards below the Pont aux Meunniers, and without further hesitation I plunged in, and the bubbling and seething of the water brought the yell of disappointment from the bank faintly to my ears. The set of the stream was towards the opposite sh.o.r.e, and in five seconds I was in pitch darkness, though, looking back over my shoulder as I struck out, I could see, by the lanterns that some carried, the watch and the volunteer brigade dancing with anger at my escape, but none of them dared to follow.

I had to swim with a will, for the current was swift; but at length I reached my own side of the river--drenched, it is true, but safe for the present. When I reached my lodging Pantin opened the door to me.

'_Ciel!_' he exclaimed, as he saw me wet and dripping. 'What has happened?'

'I have had a swim in the Seine, Pantin; say nothing about it.'

CHAPTER XII

MONSIEUR RAVAILLAC DOES NOT SUIT