CHAPTER XXV
THE PACKET OF LETTERS
We were left alone together, the bronze satyr leering down upon us asif in mockery. La Valentinois stood at the other end of the Terracesurrounded by her Court, and ever and again there were whisperingsamongst them, and strange glances bent towards us. We might have beenplague-stricken, in such manner did all shrink from us.
"Mademoiselle," I said, "you have been too rash. Look!" And I glancedat the group around Diane de Poitiers. She followed my eyes, and alittle smile played upon her lips.
"I care not, nor do I fear her."
"But, mademoiselle, there are others who fear for you, and that hashappened which you must hear. Not here! Come away from this, where wewill be secure from prying eyes."
For a little she seemed to hesitate, and then: "Very well, monsieur;the air will, perhaps, be purer away from here."
So, side by side, we went down the steps together, and I felt, ratherthan heard or saw, the mutterings and the glances that followed us.
On the other side of the lawn, facing the Ladies' Terrace and leadingtowards the riding-school, is a walk hedged in with high shrubbery oneither hand. We followed this about half way up its length, and thenpassing through a narrow wicket found ourselves in a part of thegardens to which few, if any, of the Court ever went. Here, amidst abewildering maze of rose bushes running almost wild, stood an old oak.There was a little clearing at its base, around which a rough seat wasplaced; and here, sitting by her side, I told mademoiselle what I knew,and of the crisis that had arrived.
Invisible ourselves, we could from where we were see the Gallery ofApollo and the council hall; and as I ended a figure appeared at one ofthe windows and waved a 'kerchief in the direction of the Ladies'Terrace. It was the King.
"See!" and I pointed to the window, "there is the King, and you canguess to whom he signals. Whilst we talk here the council is over, andthe peril is at hand."
She did not flinch nor change colour, for she was brave, but she roseand looked steadily at the council room, where we could now see otherfigures moving in the shadow behind the King. Then she turned to me.I had risen too, and was standing beside her.
"Do you think they will begin at once?" she asked.
"I cannot say. They will undoubtedly begin as soon as they can."
"It is horrible! Can nothing be done? Oh! why am I so helpless? Whywas I not born a man?"
"Mademoiselle, the game is not lost yet. There is still safety beforeyou. I have told the Queen, and she knows of this plot, but ispowerless to stay the course of these vampires. She can and will, Iknow, help you to fly. Leave this place, to-night if possible, and Iwill see you to the Palatinate, or the Swiss cantons. They cannottouch you there. Mademoiselle, you trusted me once before, trust meagain; I will not fail you."
Without a word she held out her hand, and I took it in mine. So westood for a little, neither speaking, and then she said:
"But I know not how to leave this place; it has a thousand eyes, athousand ears----"
"We must blind those eyes and make those ears deaf. This evening atdusk come to this spot. I will arrange that either Le Brusquet or DeLorgnac will meet you here and take you to the gate behind theriding-school. I shall be in waiting there with horses, and we will befree of the gates before even they know we are gone. We have more thanfour hours yet before it grows dark. Think of it! Four hours toprepare! We will beat them."
I spoke cheerily, though I well knew that all was hanging by a hair.My words had their effect, and I saw the light of hope in her eyes; butall at once she shrank from me and, covering her face with her hands,sank back upon the seat.
I confess that I knew not what to do, or which way to turn, for ifmademoiselle's courage failed now it was fatal.
"Come," I said, "be brave. In a few hours you will be safe." And Iplaced my hand on her shoulder. At my touch she collected herself, androse once again, her face pale, her eyes wet.
"Monsieur," she said, "I cannot take your offer. It is impossible."
"But why?" And I looked at her in blank astonishment.
"Listen!" And she spoke in low but quick accents. "Were I to availmyself of this chance I know I should be safe, for the bravest heart inFrance would be protecting me. But, monsieur, I should be savingmyself and leaving the others--my people, those of my own faith--todie. I am a woman, and a woman may be forgiven weakness in this--fordeath, and such a death, is horrible--but could I forgive myself? Iwho knew, and fled, and left my people to die! Do you know who all arein Paris? There are scores of them. There is kind old De Mouy, thereis Rochambeau, there is D'Albain, there are fifty more. Are they todie? Besides these there are the poorer brethren, rich in nothing buttheir faith. Are they to die? Can I leave them, without a word ofwarning, to the torture, to the rack, to the slow death of theestrapade?"
She stopped, her eyes all alight, her breath coming fast; but I made noanswer, and stood before her in silence.
"You have nothing to say," she went on--"nothing! Orrain, were you inmy place what would you do?"
"I am a man."
"And is honour less dear to a woman than to a man?"
I knew she was brave, but never before had I realised how brave andstrong; and, yielding to an impulse I could not resist, I bent down andtouched her hand with my lips.
"Mademoiselle," I said, "you have taught me what is right. You cannotgo thus. Your friends must be warned."
"I knew you would say that," she burst in; "I knew that nothing elsewould come from you. Yes; they must be warned! A word here and therewould be enough if there were time; but there is not, and there is onlyone way left."
"And that is?"
"I will tell you. Close to the Sorbonne, in a little street called theRue des Mathurins, which leads into the Rue St. Jacques, is a housewhere my people meet to pray, and to-night all, if not, most of them,will be there. This much I know. But where the house is exactly I donot know, for I have never been to it. If we could get there we wouldbe in time to warn them."
"From whom did you hear this? It is necessary for me to know."
"From Montgomery de Lorges."
"The captain of the Archer Guard?"
"Yes; he is of us, and always has been."
"Then, mademoiselle, there is light in the black sky. I will warn yourfriends; more we cannot do. And, since there are so many, I feelconfident that the plotters will not strike for a day or so. Ourwarning will give those who can time to escape, and you and I will havedone all that can be done. In the meantime our original plan must becarried out; but it is to a friend that I must trust you for a fewhours until I have given the warning and can join you----"
She stayed me with a gesture of her hands.
"Monsieur, why should I not go with you?"
For a moment I hesitated, and then it flashed upon me that it was thebest possible thing. After giving the warning there was nothing toprevent our escaping at once.
"Very well, mademoiselle. Then meet me here at dusk. And now perhapsit is time to go back."
We did not return as we came, but making for the Lime Walk, went alongit slowly, talking and planning many things. In the shade, on a seatunder one of the lime-trees, was a merry party of five or six people,and as we came opposite them young De Lorges the page, who was of theirnumber, called out to us to join them; but, pointing at the Louvre, Ishook my head, and as we passed on I heard Mademoiselle Davila's voicesinging:
"J'aime mieux m'amie O gai! J'aime mieux m'aime O gai!"
and a girlish voice, I know not whose it was, broke into a merry pealof laughter. In spite of what was in my mind I could not help glancingat my companion; but she was walking by my side as though she had notseen or heard, and, perhaps, this was the case.
At the Ladies' Terrace we parted, and I hastened at once to seek LeBrusquet. As luck would have it, I met both him and De Lorgnac face toface as I was crossing the inner courtyard, and drawing them asideexp
lained matters to them in a few brief words. My chagrin may beimagined when I heard that Montgomery de Lorges, from whom I hoped toget further particulars of the house in the Mathurins, had left theLouvre that afternoon for Fontainebleau to help in the arrangements fora hunt there for the King. But Le Brusquet put heart into me.
"_Eh bien_," said he, "you cannot miss finding the house, as theMathurins is not a bowshot in length; but, in any case, whilst you goand prepare for your departure I will try and find the secret of thehouse out, and warn some who, I know, are of the new faith. To thinkof a _preche_ in the very shadow of the Sorbonne!" And he laughed tohimself.
"Le Brusquet is right," said De Lorgnac. "I too have some friends whomI must warn. Have no fear that Mademoiselle de Paradis will have anydifficulty in keeping her tryst; I will see to that. Go now at once tothe Rue Tire Boudin and make you ready; we will stand by you to theend."
I thanked these brave friends, and was about to turn away, when LeBrusquet called out:
"Stay! I have one thing to ask you, Orrain."
"And that is?"
"You have still with you, I hope, a certain ring?"
"Vendome's ring, or rather the ring of the King of Navarre, as we mustcall him now. Yes; it is beneath this glove." And I held out my lefthand.
"May I see it for a moment?"
"Certainly!" And removing the glove I slipped off the ring and handedit to him. He looked at it curiously, and said:
"I think its time has come."
"Is there anything you are holding back from me?"
"No; but I have a warning in my heart that you will need it. I amsuperstitious enough never to neglect such a warning. Lend it to mefor to-day."
"With pleasure! But is the ring of any avail? Vendome has forgottenme. He hardly ever returns my salute when we meet----"
"The King of Navarre will at any rate pay this debt of the Duc deVendome--I swear it," said Le Brusquet solemnly as he slipped the ringon to his finger, and with that I left them.
On arrival at the Rue Tire Boudin I summoned Pierrebon, and informinghim of the state of affairs told him to have all in readiness for ourdeparture that night. This being over, and finding that I had stillover two hours before me, I retraced my steps to the Louvre. I went tothe tennis courts, where the King was playing a match against Monsieurd'Aumale, and mingling amongst the onlookers sought to pick up as muchinformation as I could glean about the proceedings of the council heldthat day. M. de Tolendal, who had been on guard in the council room,said that there were only four there, and that amongst the four were DeMouchy and Caraffa the Legate.
"It is not war they talked about, I am sure," he went on, "as neitherthe Constable nor Vieilleville was present. I dare swear it was allabout those cursed Huguenots; but we will hear soon--ha! good stroke!"And he turned from me towards the game.
Seeing that there was nothing to be picked up here I took myself off,and after a little found myself upon the Ladies' Terrace. Theafternoon was hot, and the Terrace was deserted, but in the shade ofthe hedgerow on the opposite side of the lawn a solitary figure wasseated looking over a small packet of letters. I looked, and saw itwas De Ganache himself. He had changed much from the day we first met.His face was thin and sunken; there was a red spot on each cheek and afierce light in his hollow eyes. For a moment I stood watching him,and then, having made up my mind, stepped up to him. As I approachedhe stared at me with his livid glance and then rose slowly to his feet.So deadly a hate shone on his face that for a second it came to me toturn away and leave him to his fate; but, fallen as he was, I could notlet him go to his death without a word or a sign. So I walked straightup to him.
"Monsieur, a word with you."
He simply looked at me. I saw his forehead flush hot, and he passedhis tongue over dry lips, and then, as if controlling himself with aneffort, he turned from me. But I called out:
"M. de Ganache, this is life and death. I have come to warn----"
He flung round on his heel and faced me once more, his hand on the hiltof his poniard.
"Begone!" he said, "begone! else I may slay you where you stand!I----" And his voice failed him, but his eyes glared like those of aboar at bay.
"Monsieur," I said calmly, "fifty windows look down upon us, and theremay be a hundred eyes watching us. If you wish it, I will cross swordswith you with pleasure, but listen to what I say first. Your life, andthe lives of your friends of your faith, hang on a hair. The councilto-day has applied anew the edicts. As you value your life, get yourfastest horse and leave Paris at once."
"In what tavern have you heard this?" he sneered.
"Monsieur," I answered gravely, "this is no jest. If you care not totake the warning yourself, give it to others. I myself will warn thoseof your faith who meet to-night in the Rue des Mathurins. There may beothers you know of; give them at least a chance. As for yourself, youhave had yours."
What answer he would have made I know not, but at this moment a sharpvoice cut in upon us.
"_Eh bien_, Monsieur de Ganache! but it seems to me that Madame deValentinois signals to you from the window yonder."
There was a little rustling in the bushes, and Le Brusquet stepped out,his ape perched upon his shoulder.
"Behold!" he said, "the crescent moon is already out." And he pointedto a window overlooking the lawn, where a group of ladies stoodwatching us.
"It must be to you, Monsieur le Vicomte, that madame signals," LeBrusquet went on. "Orrain here is too ugly, and as for me, she lovesme no better than my ape."
With an oath De Ganache pushed past Le Brusquet and hurried across thelawn, leaving us staring after him.
"He had his warning," said Le Brusquet. "I heard every word, andthought it was time to step in ere he drew his poniard. The man ismad! But what is this?" And stepping towards the seat he picked upthe small packet of letters that De Ganache was reading.
"They belong to De Ganache," I said; "he was reading them as I came up."
"In that case I will return them to monsieur with my own hands." AndLe Brusquet slipped the packet into his pocket. Then turning he tookme by the arm and led me off, telling me some absurd story, andlaughing loudly, until we had passed out of sight of the windows. Thenhe stopped.
"Do not forget this," he said: "the fifth house on the right-hand sideof the Rue des Mathurins as you enter from the Rue St. Jacques."
"Thanks; I will not forget. However did you find out?"
"It is too long to tell, and I must return these papers to De Ganache."
So saying, he went off.