The Suitors of Yvonne: being a portion of the memoirs of the Sieur Gaston de Luynes
CHAPTER VII. THE CHATEAU DE CANAPLES
Despite the strenuous efforts which Andrea compelled us to put forth, wedid not again come up with Mesdemoiselles de Canaples, who in truth musthave travelled with greater speed than ladies are wont to.
This circumstance bred much discomfort in Andrea's bosom; for in it heread that his Genevieve thought not of him as he of her, else, knowingthat he followed the same road, she would have retarded their progressso that he might overtake them. Thus argued he when on the followingnight, which was that of Friday, we lay at Orleans. But when towardsnoon on Saturday our journey ended with our arrival at Blois, he went sofar as to conclude that she had hastened on expressly to avoid him. Now,from what I had seen of Mademoiselle Yvonne, methought I might hazarda guess that she it was who commanded in these--and haply, too, inother--matters, and that the manner of their journey had been such aswas best to her wishes.
With such an argument did I strive to appease Andrea's doubts; but allin vain--which is indeed no matter for astonishment, for to reason witha man in love is to reason with one who knows no reason.
After a brief halt at the Lys de France--at which hostelry I hiredmyself a room--we set out for the Chateau de Canaples, which is situatedon the left bank of the Loire, at a distance of about half a league fromBlois in the direction of Tours.
We cut a brave enough figure as we rode down the Rue Vieille attended byour servants, and many a rustic Blaisois stopped to gape at us, to nudgehis companion, and point us out, whispering the word "Paris."
I had donned my grey velvet doublet--deeming the occasion worthy ofit--whilst Andrea wore a handsome suit of black, with gold lace,which for elegance it would have been difficult to surpass. An air ofpensiveness added interest to his handsome face and courtly figure, andmethought that Genevieve must be hard to please if she fell not a victimto his wooing.
We proceeded along the road bordering the Loire, a road of rare beautyat any other season of the year, but now bare of foliage, grey, bleak,and sullen as the clouds overhead, and as cold to the eye as was thesharp wind to the flesh. As we rode I fell to thinking of what myreception at the Chateau de Canaples was likely to be, and almost toregret that I had permitted Andrea to persuade me to accompany him. Longago I had known the Chevalier de Canaples, and for all the disparityin our ages--for he counted twice my years--we had been friends andcomrades. That, however, was ten years ago, in the old days when I ownedsomething more than the name of Luynes. To-day I appeared before him asa ruined adventurer, a soldier of fortune, a ruffler, a duellist who hadalmost slain his son in a brawl, whose details might be known to him,but not its origin. Seeing me in the company of Andrea de Mancini hemight--who could say?--even deem me one of those parasites who cling toyoung men of fortune so that they may live at their expense. That thedaughter would have formed such a conceit of me I was assured; it butremained to see with what countenance the father would greet me.
From such speculations I was at length aroused by our arrival at thegates of the Canaples park. Seeing them wide open, we rode betweenthe two massive columns of granite (each surmounted by a couchant lionholding the escutcheon of the Canaples) and proceeded at an ambling paceup the avenue. Through the naked trees the chateau became discernible--abrave old castle that once had been the stronghold of a feudal racelong dead. Grey it was, and attuned, that day, to the rest of the greylandscape. But at its base the ivy grew thick and green, and here andthere long streaks of it crept up almost to the battlements, whilstin one place it had gone higher yet and clothed one of the quaint oldturrets. A moat there had once been, but this was now filled up andarranged into little mounds that became flower-beds in summer.
Resigning our horses to the keeping of our servants, we followed thegrave maitre d'hotel who had received us. He led us across the spacioushall, which had all the appearance of an armoury, and up the regalstaircase of polished oak on to a landing wide and lofty. Here, turningto the left, he opened a door and desired us to give ourselves thetrouble of awaiting the Chevalier. We entered a handsome room, hungin costly Dutch tapestry, and richly furnished, yet with a sobriety ofcolour almost puritanical. The long windows overlooked a broad terrace,enclosed in a grey stone balustrade, from which some half-dozen stepsled to a garden below. Beyond that ran the swift waters of the Loire,and beyond that again, in the distance, we beheld the famous Chateau deChambord, built in the days of the first Francis.
I had but remarked these details when the door again opened, to admita short, slender man in whose black hair and beard the hand of time hadscattered but little of that white dust that marks its passage. His facewas pale, thin, and wrinkled, and his grey eyes had a nervous, restlesslook that dwelt not long on anything. He was dressed in black, withsimple elegance, and his deep collar and ruffles were of the finestpoint.
"Welcome to Canaples, M. de Mancini!" he exclaimed, as he hurriedforward, with a smile so winning that his countenance appearedtransfigured by it. "Welcome most cordially! We had not hoped that youwould arrive so soon, but fortunately my daughters, to whom you appearto have been of service at Choisy, warned me that you were journeyinghither. Your apartments, therefore, are prepared for you, and we hopethat you will honour Canaples by long remaining its guest."
Andrea thanked him becomingly.
"In truth," he added, "my departure from Paris was somewhat sudden,but I have a letter here from Monseigneur my uncle, which explains thematter."
"No explanation is needed, my dear Andrea," replied the old nobleman,abandoning the formalities that had marked his welcoming speech. "Howleft you my Lord Cardinal?" he asked, as he took the letter.
"In excellent health, but somewhat harassed, I fear, by the affairs ofState."
"Ah, yes, yes. But stay. You are not alone." And Canaples's grey eyesshot an almost furtive glance of inquiry in my direction. A secondglance followed the first and the Chevalier's brows were knit. Then hecame a step nearer, scanning my face.
"Surely, surely, Monsieur," he exclaimed before Andrea had time toanswer him. "Were you not at Rocroi?"
"Your memory flatters me, Monsieur," I replied with a laugh. "I wasindeed at Rocroi--captain in the regiment of chevaux-legers whereof youwere Mestre de Champ."
"His name," said Andrea, "is Gaston de Luynes, my very dear friend,counsellor, and, I might almost say, protector."
"Pardieu, yes! Gaston de Luynes!" he ejaculated, seizing my hand in anaffectionate grip. "But how have you fared since Rocroi was fought? Fora soldier of such promise, one might have predicted great things in tenyears."
"Helas, Monsieur! I was dismissed the service after Senlac."
"Dismissed the service!"
"Pah!" I laughed, not without bitterness, "'t is a long story and anugly one, divided 'twixt the dice-box, the bottle, and the scabbard. Tenyears ago I was a promising young captain, ardent and ambitious; to-dayI am a broken ruffler, unrecognised by my family--a man without hope,without ambition, almost without honour."
I know not what it was that impelled me to speak thus. Haply the wishthat since he must soon learn to what depths Gaston de Luynes had sunk,he should at least learn it from my own lips at the outset.
He shuddered at my concluding words, and had not Andrea at that momentput his arm affectionately upon my shoulder, and declared me the bravestfellow and truest friend in all the world, it is possible that theChevalier de Canaples would have sought an excuse to be rid of me. Suchmen as he seek not the acquaintance of such men as I.
To please Andrea was, however, of chief importance in his plans, andto that motive I owe it that he pressed me to remain a guest at thechateau. I declined the honour with the best grace I could command,determined that whilst Andrea remained at Canaples I would lodge at theLys de France in Blois, independent and free to come or go as my fancybade me. His invitation that I should at least dine at Canaples Iaccepted; but with the condition that he should repeat his invitationafter he had heard something that I wished to tell him. He assented witha puzzled look, and when presently Andrea r
epaired to his apartments,and we were alone, I began.
"You have doubtlessly received news, Monsieur, of a certain affair inwhich your son had recently the misfortune to be dangerously wounded?"
We were standing by the great marble fireplace, and Canaples was restingone of his feet upon the huge brass andirons. He made a gesture ofimpatience as I spoke.
"My son, sir, is a fool! A good-for-nothing fool! Oh, I have heard ofthis affair, a vulgar tavern brawl, the fifth in which his name has beeninvolved and besmirched. I had news this morning by a courier dispatchedme by my friend St. Simon, who imagines that I am deeply concerned inthat young profligate. I learn that he is out of danger, and that in amonth or so, he will be about again and ready to disgrace the nameof Canaples afresh. But there, sir; I crave your pardon for theinterruption."
I bowed, and when in answer to my questions he told me that he was inignorance of the details of the affair of which I spoke, I set aboutlaying those details before him. Beginning with the original provocationin the Palais Royal and ending with the fight in the horse-market, Irelated the whole story to him, but in an impersonal manner, and keepingmy own name out of my narrative. When I had done, Canaples muttered anoath of the days of the fourth Henry.
"Ventre St. Gris! Does the dog carry his audacity so far as to dare comebetwixt me and my wishes, and to strive against them? He sought to killMancini, eh? Would to Heaven he had died by the hand of this fellow whoshielded the lad!"
"Monsieur!" I cried, aghast at so unnatural an expression.
"Pah!" he cried harshly. "He is my son in name alone, filial he neverwas."
"Nevertheless, Monsieur, he is still your son, your heir."
"My heir? And what, pray, does he inherit? A title--a barren, landlesstitle! By his shameful conduct he alienated the affection of his uncle,and his uncle has disinherited him in favour of Yvonne. 'T is she whowill be mistress of this chateau with its acres of land reaching fromhere to Blois, and three times as far on the other side. My brother,sir, was the rich Canaples, the owner of all this, and by his testamentI am his heir during my lifetime, the estates going to Yvonne at mydeath. So that you see I have naught to leave; but if I had, not adenier should go to my worthless son!"
He spread his thin hands before the blaze, and for a moment there wassilence. Then I proceeded to tell him of the cabal which had been formedagainst Mancini, and of the part played by St. Auban. At the mention ofthat name he started as if I had stung him.
"What!" he thundered. "Is that ruffian also in the affair? Sangdieu! Hismotives are not far to seek. He is a suitor--an unfavoured suitor--forthe hand of Yvonne, that seemingly still hopes. But you have not toldme, Monsieur, the name of this man who has stood betwixt Andrea and hisassassins."
"Can you not guess, Monsieur?" quoth I, looking him squarely in theface. "Did you not hear Andrea call me, even now, his protector."
"You? And with what motive, pray?"
"At first, as I have told you, because the Cardinal gave me no choicein the matter touching your son. Since then my motive has lain in myfriendship for the boy. He has been kind and affectionate to one whohas known little kindness or affection in life. I seek to repay him byadvancing his interests and his happiness. That, Monsieur, is why I amhere to-day--to shield him from St. Auban and his fellows should theyappear again, as I believe they will."
The old man stood up and eyed me for a moment as steadily as hisvacillating glance would permit him, then he held out his hand.
"I trust, Monsieur," he said, "that you will do me the honour to dinewith us, and that whilst you are at Blois we shall see you at Canaplesas often as it may please you to cross its threshold."
I took his hand, but without enthusiasm, for I understood that his wordssprang from no warmth of heart for me, but merely from the fact that hebeheld in me a likely ally to his designs of raising his daughter to therank of Duchess.
Eugene de Canaples may have been a good-for-nothing knave; still,methought his character scarce justified the callous indifferencemanifested by this selfish, weak-minded old man towards his own son.
There was a knock at the door, and a lackey--the same Guilbert whomI had seen at Choisy in Mademoiselle's company--appeared with theannouncement that the Chevalier was served.