The Chevalier d'Auriac Part 5

'In the service of the Lord one would willingly lay down life,' said Palin, as he shook me warmly by the hand, 'nevertheless, a few hours more of the world for an old man is a grace not to be despised, and I thank the instrument that has bestowed this benefit upon me.'

D'Ayen, between whom and myself there had pa.s.sed no greeting, now spoke in a voice that fairly trembled with anger.

'I was not aware that I should have the pleasure of meeting you here, M. le Chevalier. It will surprise the King,' he added, in a lower tone to Madame.

I made no answer; but the memory of his warning and my determination to settle with him came up in full force. Madame, however, spoke.

'M. d'Ayen, when, by the order of the King, you were directed to escort me to Bidache, there was nothing said about your right to dictate to me who shall be my guests. Remember, monsieur, that your company is forced upon me, and let me add that you are a trifle too paternal.'

D'Ayen paled under his rouge, and, muttering something, reined back a pace, whilst Palin, looking him full in the eyes, said:

'Will you swallow that, too, M. d'Ayen? At your age one would have thought digestion hard.'

And there was no answer.

Madame had in the meantime signalled a lackey to dismount and offer me his beast.

'I cannot allow you to walk, and we will reach the house quicker in this way, besides, I want to hear all your news. My friends,' and she turned to the people, 'come to Bidache: it is long since we have met, and I would have you to make merry as of old--come, Chevalier.'

In the cheers which followed, she touched her horse lightly on the shoulder with her whip, and galloped on, Palin and I on either hand, and the suite behind. In a little while she slackened pace, saying with a laugh, 'We are going too fast to talk, Chevalier, and I am a woman, you know, and must hear my own voice, if nothing else--so you are quite well and strong again?'

'I am, madame, thanks to your kindness, which Alban de Breuil can never forget.'

Her colour deepened slightly. 'It is the other way, Chevalier, the debt is on my side.'

'I have done nothing--and the repayment was too much.'

'I am sorry you think so,' looking straight between her horse's ears.

'I did not mean that--I have already said I can never requite your kindness, and if Madame ever needs a stout arm and a good sword, it is my hope she will call on that of Auriac.'

'Perhaps I may--some day,' she answered, 'for the blood of my fathers runs strong in me, but I think Maitre Palin here will tell you that I am wrong, and that the sword is accursed.'

'Unless it be drawn in the service of G.o.d, madame,' put in the Huguenot gravely.

'_Mon pere_ Palin has been a man-at-arms in his day,' said Madame, 'and has fought at Jarnac and Moncontour. He is therefore of the church militant, as you see.'

'I am proud to meet so brave a soldier as I doubt not you were, Maitre Palin. We took different sides; but all that is pa.s.sed now, and Huguenot and Leaguer are merged in the common name of Frenchman.'

'Long live the King!' said Madame gaily; but Palin answered sadly:

'Would it were so. But to my eyes there are still dark clouds ahead.

We have no longer Henry of Navarre, but Henry of France; no longer a prince of the true faith, but a pervert.'

'His Majesty will be delighted to hear that,' put in d'Ayen; but Madame took no more notice of him than of a fly.

'Hus.h.!.+ _mon pere_,' and she raised a warning hand, 'I will have no word against the King. M. le Chevalier is right, we are all one again, as France should ever be.'

'Amen!' answered Palin; 'but too much blood has been shed for this compromise to be accepted. The way is dark--but I will say no more,'

and the old croaker dropped a half length behind.

A turn in the avenue at this moment brought us in full view of the grey walls of Bidache, and on the wide stone staircase that led to the great hall we saw the servants of the household a.s.sembled. Madame waved her hand in greeting, and the cheer which broke from them was drowned in the boom of the bombard from the keep. As the blue wreaths of smoke curled upwards a little ball ran to the top of the flagstaff on the keep, and the next moment the banner of Tremouille, with the arms of Rochemars of Bidache quartered thereon, spread out its folds to the morning, and Madame was come home once more.

We dined an hour or so later than usual, Madame, d'Ayen, Palin, and myself at the high table, and the rest of the household with all Bidache at the next. Madame, who seemed in nowise fatigued by her long ride, was in the gayest of spirits and rippled with talk. As if thinking she had punished d'Ayen enough, she directed all her conversation towards him, and the old beau was in his element in discussing the intrigues of court life, and, let me add, interesting, for his memory went far back. Madame spoke of the Edict, but for which they would never have been at Bidache; of the surrender of Mercoeur, and of the betrothal of his daughter Francoise de Lorraine, the greatest heiress in France, to _Cesar Monsieur_, the little Duc de Vendome; of the Constable and his disappointment thereat; of the squabbles between M. de Bar and his wife, the King's sister; of court gossip and court scandal, until Palin's face grew sour, and I felt a disappointment within me, as she prattled on like some Paris beauty, whose sole thoughts were of masques at the Louvre and hunting parties at Vincennes. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled as she discussed with d'Ayen whether the ruff or the collar drooped in the Italian manner was the more becoming, and whether the _cinque pace_ dance was more enjoyable than the minuet. _Pardieu!_ Their speech was all frill and furbelows. But for a word thrown in here and there, I sipped my Romanee in silence, wondering at this flow of talk, and wondering, too, at this change of front, and if I was wrong in my estimate of Madame. As she talked, my head for a moment overcame my heart, and I began to judge her in that way, showing, in doing so, my ignorance of that complex thing--a woman.

At last the dinner came to a close, and Palin, rising, opened his lips with a long thanksgiving, to which all, Madame included, listened devoutly. Our hostess then retired, and we three were left together in an absolute silence. Had it been any other place I would have felt bound to call d'Ayen to account, and ask him to name a proxy if he was unable to meet me by reason of his age. But as it was this was impossible, and I contented myself with a frigid reserve, in which I was joined by the Huguenot. He looked from one to the other of us with a satirical smile on his thin lips, and then rising made a slight bow and left us to ourselves. As we returned to our seats from our response to his greeting, I blurted out the questions:

'Who is M. d'Ayen? Why is he here?'

'Who is he? It is enough to say he is one of those men who live on the follies of kings. And it is enough to say that his company is forced upon us.'

'I have heard that before; but Madame seemed to like him well enough at dinner.' I felt I was wrong as I said this, but the words came out.

'He is here by the King's orders, by the orders of Henry the Great,'

said Palin with bitterness. 'Monsieur, you seem a man of honour, what do you think of a king who would force a marriage on a woman to----'

and he whispered words in my ear which struck me speechless.

I could not believe him. It was incredible. Was this the hero king, the gallant soldier, the father of his people? It could not be true.

Palin saw the doubt on my face.

'Even you,' he said; 'well, go to Paris and see.'

'I shall go, I am going to-day.'

'It will be at the risk of your life.'

'Maitre Palin, there is the King's Peace, and even if it were not so I will go.'

He looked at me long and attentively: 'Let it be so,' he muttered to himself, and then loudly, 'Well, Chevalier, I have warned you; if you go you will want a safe lodging--seek out Pantin in the Rue des Deux Mondes, and mention my name. The house faces the Pont Neuf, you can't miss it.'

'Thank you, I will do so.'

Then after a few minutes more of talk we wished each other good-bye and parted.

As for myself, I was on the cross with what I had heard. My mind was racked with doubt, and at last in despair I sought my own room to think over the matter. I could make nothing of it, turn it which way I would. To me Palin's story was incredible. But yet it explained and made clear so much! It was not to offer my sword only to the King that I would now go to Paris, it would be to save the woman I loved if possible. How I was to do this I had no definite idea, the one thing at present in my mind was Paris, Paris. I therefore gave the necessary orders to Jacques to make ready to start at once, and, descending the winding staircase of the tower wherein my room lay, sought the great hall with the view of either finding Madame there, or of sending some one with the request to permit my waiting on her to say good-bye. The staircase ended in a long dark corridor, hung on each side with trophies of the chase, old armour, and frayed and tattered banners. At the end of this was an arched doorway hidden by a heavy curtain, and above the arch was a half-length portrait of a man. The painter had not flattered his subject; the long pointed face with its grey beard was bent forward slightly, there was a cynical curve to the lips, and the eyes looked down on me as if with a laugh in them. I had pa.s.sed this picture fifty times before, but had never stayed to examine it.

Somehow I did so on this occasion, and as I read the inscription 'Antoine de la Tremouille' on the frame, the thin lips appeared to lengthen out into a grin. For a moment a chill fell on me, and then, laughing at myself for a fool, I lifted the curtain and pa.s.sed into the great hall. At first I thought it was empty, but a second glance showed me Madame, seated at a small table, in the recess of the bow window that overlooked the park. Her face, leaning on her hand, was half averted from me, and I caught, a glimpse of a small foot resting on one of the lions' heads in which the legs of the table finished.

The foot was beating up and down as if in unison with the impatience of Madame's thoughts, but I could see nothing of her face beyond its contour. She was, as usual, robed in black, wearing no jewels except a gold collar round her neck. For a moment I stood in silence, looking at her, half thinking that here was a chance to speak out what was in my heart, and then stilling the words by the thought of how impossible it was for a poor man to woo a rich woman.

Through the open window I could see the woods, ruddy in their autumn foliage, and ever and again came the sound of cheerful voices, marking where the good people of Bidache were holding revelry in honour of their mistress' return.

As I stood, hat in hand, Madame suddenly turned with a little start, and hastily concealed something as she caught sight of me. I went up at once, and she rose to meet me.

'I have come to say farewell, madame,' and I held out my hand.

'So soon,' she said, as she took it for a moment, her eyes not meeting mine.

'Yes--Paris is far--and it will be well for me to be there as quickly as possible.'