The Suitors of Yvonne: being a portion of the memoirs of the Sieur Gaston de Luynes
CHAPTER XX. OF HOW THE CHEVALIER DE CANAPLES BECAME A FRONDEUR
It wanted an hour or so to noon next day as I drove across the Pont Neufin a closed carriage, and was borne down the Rue St. Dominique to theportals of that splendid palace, facing the Jacobins, which bears thetitle of the "Hotel de Luynes," and over the portals of which is carvedthe escutcheon of our house.
Michelot--in obedience to the orders I had given him--got down only tobe informed that Madame la Duchesse was in the country. The lackey whowas summoned did not know where the lady might be found, nor when shemight return to Paris. And so I was compelled to drive back almostdespairingly to the Rue St. Antoine, and there lie concealed, nursing myimpatience, until my aunt should return.
Daily I sent Michelot to the Hotel de Luynes to make the same inquiry,and to return daily with the same dispiriting reply--that there was nonews of Madame la Duchesse.
In this fashion some three weeks wore themselves out, during whichperiod I lay in my concealment, a prey to weariness unutterable. I mightnot venture forth save at night, unless I wore a mask; and as maskswere no longer to be worn without attracting notice--as during the lateking's reign--I dared not indulge the practice.
Certainly my ennui was greatly relieved by the visits of Montresor,which grew very frequent, the lad appearing to have conceived a kindnessfor me; and during those three weeks our fellowship at nights over abottle or two engendered naturally enough a friendship and an intimacybetween us.
I had written to Andrea on the morrow of my return to Paris, to tellhim how kindly Montresor had dealt with me, and some ten days later thefollowing letter was brought me by the lieutenant--to whom, for safety,it had been forwarded:
"MY VERY DEAR GASTON:
I have no words wherewith to express my joy at the good news you sendme, which terminates the anxiety that has been mine since you left us onthe disastrous morning of our nuptials.
The uncertainty touching your fate, the fear that the worst might havebefallen you, and the realisation that I--for whom you have done somuch--might do naught for you in your hour of need, has been the onecloud to mar the sunshine of my own bliss.
That cloud your letter has dispelled, and the knowledge of your safetyrenders my happiness complete.
The Chevalier maintains his unforgiving mood, as no doubt doth also myLord Cardinal. But what to me are the frowns of either, so that my ladysmile? My little Genevieve is yet somewhat vexed in spirit at all this,but I am teaching her to have faith in Time, the patron saint of alllovers who follow not the course their parents set them. And so thattime may be allowed to intercede and appeal to the parent heart withthe potent prayer of a daughter's absence, I shall take my lady fromChambord some three days hence. We shall travel by easy stages toMarseilles, and there take ship for Palermo.
And so, dear, trusty friend, until we meet again, fare you well andmay God hold you safe from the wickedness of man, devil, and my LordCardinal.
For all that you have done for me, no words of mine can thank you,but should you determine to quit this France of yours, and journey toPalermo after me, you shall never want a roof to shelter you or a boardto sit at, so long as roof and board are owned by him who signs himself,in love at least, your brother--
"ANDREA DE MANCINI."
With a sigh I set the letter down. A sigh of love and gratitude it was;a sigh also of regret for the bright, happy boy who had been the sourcealike of my recent joys and sorrows, and whom methought I was notlikely to see again for many a day, since the peaceful vegetation of hisSicilian home held little attraction for me, a man of action.
It was on the evening of the last Sunday in May, whilst the bell ofthe Jesuits, close by, was tinkling out its summons to vespers, thatMontresor burst suddenly into my room with the request that I shouldget my hat and cloak and go with him to pay a visit. In reply to myquestions--"Monseigneur's letter to Armand de Canaples," he said, "hasborne fruit already. Come with me and you shall learn how."
He led me past the Bastille and up the Rue des Tournelles to the doorof an unpretentious house, upon which he knocked. We were admitted by anold woman to whom Montresor appeared to be known, for, after exchanginga word or two with her, he himself led the way upstairs and opened thedoor of a room for me.
By the melancholy light of a single taper burning upon the table Ibeheld a fair-sized room containing a curtained bed.
My companion took up the candle, and stepping to the bedside, he drewapart the curtains.
Lying there I beheld a man whose countenance, despite its pallor andthe bloody bandages about his brow, I recognised for that of the littlespitfire Malpertuis.
As the light fell upon his face, the little fellow opened his eyes, andupon beholding me at his side he made a sudden movement which wrung fromhim a cry of pain.
"Lie still, Monsieur," said Montresor quietly.
But for all the lieutenant's remonstrances, he struggled up into asitting posture, requesting Montresor to set the pillows at his back.
"Thank God you are here, M. de Luynes!" he said. "I learnt at Canaplesthat you were not dead."
"You have been to Canaples?"
"I was a guest of the Chevalier for twelve days. I arrived there on theday after your departure."
"You!" I ejaculated. "Pray what took you to Canaples?"
"What took me there?" he echoed, turning his feverish eyes upon me,almost with fierceness. "The same motive that led me to join hands withthat ruffian St. Auban, when he spoke of waging war against Mancini; thesame motive that led me to break with him when I saw through his plans,and when the abduction of Mademoiselle was on foot; the same motive thatmade me come to you and tell you of the proposed abduction so that youmight interfere if you had the power, or cause others to do so if youhad not."
I lay back in my chair and stared at him. Was this, then, another suitorof Yvonne de Canaples, and were all men mad with love of her?
Presently he continued:
"When I heard that St. Auban was in Paris, having apparently abandonedall hope in connection with Mademoiselle, I obtained a letter from M. dela Rochefoucauld--who is an intimate friend of mine--and armed with thisI set out. As luck would have it I got embroiled in the streets of Bloiswith a couple of cardinalist gentlemen, who chose to be offended bylampoon of the Fronde that I was humming. I am not a patient man, and Iam even indiscreet in moments of choler. I ended by crying, 'Down withMazarin and all his creatures,' and I would of a certainty have had mythroat slit, had not a slight and elegant gentleman interposed, and,exercising a wonderful influence over my assailants, extricated me frommy predicament. This gentleman was the Chevalier de Canaples. He wasstrangely enough in a mood to be pleased by an anti-cardinalist ditty,for his rage against Andrea de Mancini--which he took no pains toconceal--had extended already to the Cardinal, and from morn till nighthe did little else but revile the whole Italian brood--as he chose todub the Cardinal's family."
I recognised the old knight's weak, vacillating character in this, acreature of moods that, like the vane on a steeple, turns this way orthat, as the wind blows.
"I crave your patience, M. de Luynes," he continued, "and beg of youto hear my story so that you may determine whether you will save theCanaples from the danger that threatens them. I only ask that youdispatch a reliable messenger to Blois. But hear me out first. In virtueas much of La Rochefoucauld's letters as of the sentiments which theChevalier heard me express, I became the honoured guest at his chateau.Three days after my arrival I sustained a shock by the unexpectedappearance at Canaples of St. Auban. The Chevalier, however, refusedhim admittance, and, baffled, the Marquis was forced to withdraw. But hewent no farther than Blois, where he hired himself a room at the Lys deFrance. The Chevalier hated him as a mad dog hates water--almost as muchas he hated you. He spoke often of you, and always bitterly."
Before I knew what I had said--
"And Mademoiselle?" I burst out. "Did she ever mention my name?"
Malpertuis looked up quickly at the question, a
nd a wan smile flickeredround his lips.
"Once she spoke of you to me--pityingly, as one might speak of a deadman whose life had not been good."
"Yes, yes," I broke in. "It matters little. Your story, M. Malpertuis."
"After I had been at the chateau ten days, we learnt that Eugene deCanaples had been sent to the Bastille. The news came in a letter pennedby his Eminence himself--a bitter, viperish letter, with a covert threatin every line. The Chevalier's anger went white hot as he read thedisappointed Cardinal's epistle. His Eminence accused Eugene of being afrondeur; M. de Canaples, whose politics had grown sadly rusted in thecountry, asked me the meaning of the word. I explained to him thepetty squabbles between Court and Parliament, in consequence of theextortionate imposts and of Mazarin's avariciousness. I avowed myself apartisan of the Fronde, and within three days the Chevalier--who buta little time before had sought an alliance with the Cardinal'sfamily--had become as rabid a frondeur as M. de Gondi, as fierce ananti-cardinalist as M. de Beaufort.
"I humoured him in his new madness, with the result that ere long frombeing a frondeur in heart, he thirsted to become a frondeur in deeds,and he ended by begging me to bear a letter from him to the Coadjutorof Paris, wherein he offered to place at M. de Gondi's disposal, towardsthe expenses of the civil war which he believed to be imminent,--as,indeed, it is,--the sum of sixty thousand livres.
"Now albeit I had gone to Canaples for purposes of my own, and not asan agent of M. le Coadjuteur's, still for many reasons I saw fit toundertake the Chevalier's commission. And so, bearing the letterin question, which was hot and unguarded, and charged with endlesstreasonable matter, I set out four days later for Paris, arriving hereyesterday.
"I little knew that I had been followed by St. Auban. His suspicionsmust have been awakened, I know not how, and clearly they were confirmedwhen I stopped before the Coadjutor's house last night. I was about tomount the steps, when of a sudden I was seized from behind by half adozen hands and dragged into a side street. I got free for a moment andattempted to defend myself, but besides St. Auban there were two others.They broke my sword and attempted to break my skull, in which they wentperilously near succeeding, as you see. Albeit half-swooning, I hadyet sufficient consciousness left to realise that my pockets were beingemptied, and that at last they had torn open my doublet and withdrawnthe treasonable letter from the breast of it.
"I was left bleeding in the kennel, and there I lay for nigh upon anhour until a passer-by succoured me and carried out my request to bebrought hither and put to bed."
He ceased, and for some moments there was silence, broken only by thewounded man's laboured breathing, which argued that his narrative hadleft him fatigued. At last I sprang up.
"The Chevalier de Canaples must be warned," I exclaimed.
"'T is an ugly business," muttered Montresor. "I'll wager a hundred thatMazarin will hang the Chevalier if he catches him just now."
"He would not dare!" cried Malpertuis.
"Not dare?" echoed the lieutenant. "The man who imprisoned the Princesof Conde and Conti, and the Duke of Beaufort, not dare hang a provincialknight with never a friend at Court! Pah, Monsieur, you do not knowCardinal Mazarin."
I realised to the full how likely Montresor's prophecy was to befulfilled, and before I left Malpertuis I assured him that he had notpoured his story into the ears of an indifferent listener, and that Iwould straightway find means of communicating with Canaples.