XXIV
_The Florentines._
M. Etienne, forgetting his manners, snatched the papers from hisfather's hand, turning them about and about, not able to believe hissenses. A man hurled over a cliff, plunging in one moment from flowerylawns into a turbulent sea, might feel as he did.
"But the seal!" he stammered.
"The seal was genuine," Monsieur answered, startled as he. "How yourfellow could have the king's signet--"
"See," M. Etienne cried, scratching at the fragments. "This is it. Duncethat I am not to have guessed it! Look, there is a layer of paperembedded in the wax. Look, he cut the seal out, smeared hot wax on thefalse packet, pressed in the seal, and curled the new wax over the edge.It was cleverly done; the seal is but little thicker, little larger thanbefore. It did not look tampered with. Would you have suspected it,Monsieur?" he demanded piteously.
"I had no thought of it. But this Peyrot--it may not yet be too late--"
"I will go back," M. Etienne cried, darting to the door. But Monsieurlaid forcible hands on him.
"Not you, Etienne. You were hurt yesterday; you have not closed youreyes for twenty-four hours. I don't want a dead son. I blame you not forthe failure; not another man of us all would have come so near success."
"Dolt! I should have known he could not deal honestly," M. Etiennecried. "I should have known he would trick me. But I did not think todoubt the crest. I should have opened it there in the inn, but it wasLemaitre's sealed packet. However, Peyrot sat down to my dinner: I canbe back before he has finished his three kinds of wine."
"Stop, Etienne," Monsieur commanded. "I forbid you. You are gray withfatigue. Vigo shall go."
M. Etienne turned on him in fiery protest; then the blaze in his eyesflickered out, and he made obedient salute.
"So be it. Let him go. I am no use; I bungle everything I touch. But hemay accomplish something."
He flung himself down on the bench in the corner, burying his face inhis hands, weary, chagrined, disheartened. A statue-maker might havecopied him for a figure of Defeat.
"Go find Vigo," Monsieur bade me, "and then get you to bed."
I obeyed both orders with all alacrity.
I too smarted, but mine was the private's disappointment, not thegeneral's who had planned the campaign. The credit of the rescue wasnone of mine; no more was the blame of failure. I need not rack myselfwith questioning, Had I in this or that done differently, should I nothave triumphed? I had done only what I was told. Yet I was part of theexpedition; I could not but share the grief. If I did not wet my pillowwith my tears, it was because I could not keep awake long enough.Whatever my sorrows, speedily they slipped from me.
* * * * *
I roused with a start from deep, dreamless sleep, and then wonderedwhether, after all, I had waked. Here, to be sure, was Marcel's bed, onwhich I had lain down; there was the high gable-window, through whichthe westering sun now poured. There was the wardrobe open, with Marcel'sSunday suit hanging on the peg; here were the two stools, the littleimage of the Virgin on the wall. But here was also something else, soout of place in the chamber of a page that I pinched myself to make sureit was real. At my elbow on the pallet lay a box of some fine foreignwood, beautifully grained by God and polished by grateful man. It wasabout as large as my lord's despatch-box, bound at the edges withshining brass and having long brass hinges wrought in a design of leavesand flowers. Beside the box were set three shallow trays, lined withblue velvet, and filled full of goldsmith's work-glittering chains,linked or twisted, bracelets in the form of yellow snakes with greeneyes, buckles with ivory teeth, glove-clasps thick with pearls,ear-rings and finger-rings with precious stones.
I stared bedazzled from the display to him who stood as showman. Thiswas a handsome lad, seemingly no older than I, though taller, with ashock of black hair, rough and curly, and dark, smooth face, very boyishand pleasant. He was dressed well, in bourgeois fashion; yet there wasabout him and his apparel something, I could not tell what, unfamiliar,different from us others.
He, meeting my eye, smiled in the friendliest way, like a child, andsaid, in Italian:
"Good day to you, my little gentleman."
I had still the uncertain feeling that I must be in a dream, for whyshould an Italian jeweller be displaying his treasures to me, apenniless page? But the dream was amusing; I was in no haste to wake.
I knew my Italian well enough, for Monsieur's confessor, the FatherFrancesco, who had followed him into exile, was Florentine; and as healways spoke his own tongue to Monsieur, and I was always at the duke'sheels, I picked up a deal of it. After Monsieur's going, the father,already a victim, poor man, to the falling-sickness, of which he died,stayed behind with us, and I found a pricking pleasure in talking withhim in the speech he loved, of Monsieur's Roman journey, of his exploitsin the war of the Three Henrys. Therefore the words came easily to mylips to answer this lad from over the Alps:
"I give you good day, friend."
He looked somewhat surprised and more than pleased, breaking at onceinto voluble speech:
"The best of greetings to you, young sir. Now, what can I sell you thisfine day? I have not been half a week in this big city of yours, yetalready I have but one boxful of trinkets left. They are noble,open-handed customers, these gallants of Paris. I have not to show themmy wares twice, I can tell you. They know what key will unlock theirfair mistresses' hearts. And now, what can I sell you, my littlegentleman, to buy your sweetheart's kisses?"
"Nay, I have no sweetheart," I said, "and if I had, she would not wearthese gauds."
"She would if she could get them, then," he retorted. "Now, let me giveyou a bit of advice, my friend, for I see you are but young: buy thisgold chain of me, or this ring with this little dove on it,--see, howcunningly wrought,--and you'll not lack long for a sweetheart."
His words huffed me a bit, for he spoke as if he were vastly my senior.
"I want no sweetheart," I returned with dignity, "to be bought withgold."
"Nay," he cried quickly, "but when your own valour and prowess haveinflamed her with passion, you should be willing to reward her devotionand set at rest her suspense by a suitable gift."
I looked at him uneasily, for I had a suspicion that he might be makingfun of me. But his countenance was as guileless as a kitten's.
"Well, I tell you again I have no sweetheart and I want no sweetheart,"I said; "I have no time to bother with girls."
At once he abandoned the subject, seeing that he was making naught byit.
"The messer is very much occupied?" he asked with exceeding deference."The messer has no leisure for trifling in boudoirs; he is occupied withgreat matters? Oh, that can I well believe, and I cry the messer'spardon. For when the mind is taken up with affairs of state, it isdistasteful to listen even for a moment to light talk of maids andjewels."
Again I eyed him challengingly; but he, with face utterly unconscious,was sorting over his treasures. I made up my mind his queer talk was butthe outlandish way of a foreigner. He looked at me again, serious andrespectful.
"The messer must often be engaged in great risks, in perilousencounters. Is it not so? Then he will do well to carry ever over hisheart the sacred image of our Lord."
He held up to my inspection a silver rosary from which depended acrucifix of ivory, the sad image of the dying Christ carved upon it.Even in Monsieur's chapel, even in the church at St. Quentin, wasnothing so masterfully wrought as this figurine to be held in the palmof the hand. The tears started in my eyes to look at it, and I crossedmyself in reverence. I bethought me how I had trampled on my crucifix;the stranger all unwittingly had struck a bull's-eye. I had committedgrave offence against God, but perhaps if, putting gewgaws aside, Ishould give my all for this cross, he would call the account even. Iknew nothing of the value of a carving such as this, but I remembered Iwas not moneyless, and I said, albeit somewhat shyly:
"I cannot take the rosary. But I should like well the crucifix. Butt
hen, I have only ten pistoles."
"Ten pistoles!" he repeated contemptuously. "Corpo di Bacco! Theworkmanship alone is worth twenty." Then, viewing my fallen visage, headded: "However, I have received fair treatment in this house, beshrewme but I have! I have made good sales to your young count. What sort ofmaster is he, this M. le Comte de Mar?"
"Oh, there's nobody like him," I answered, "except, of course, M. leDuc."
"Ah, then you have two masters?" he inquired curiously, yet with acertain careless air. It struck me suddenly, overwhelmingly, that he wasa spy, come here under the guise of an honest tradesman. But he shouldgain nothing from me.
"This is the house of the Duke of St. Quentin," I said. "Surely youcould not come in at the gate without discovering that?"
"He is a very grand seigneur, then, this duke?"
"Assuredly," I replied cautiously.
"More of a man than the Comte de Mar?"
I would have told him to mind his own business, had it not been for myhopes of the crucifix. If he planned to sell it to me cheap, therebyhoping to gain information, marry, I saw no reason why I should not buyit at his price--and withhold the information. So I made civil answer:
"They are both as gallant gentlemen as any living. About this cross,now--"
"Oh, yes," he answered at once, accepting with willingness--wellfeigned, I thought--the change of topic. "You can give me ten pistoles,say you? 'Tis making you a present of the treasure. Yet, since I havereceived good treatment at the hands of your master, I will e'en give itto you. You shall have your cross."
With suspicions now at point of certainty, I drew out my pouch fromunder my pillow, and counted into his hand the ten pieces which were mystore. My rosary I drew out likewise; I had broken it when I shatteredthe cross, but one of the inn-maids had tied it together for me with athread, and it served very well. The Italian unhooked the delicatecarving from the silver chain and hung it on my wooden one, which Ithrew over my neck, vastly pleased with my new possession. Marcel'sVirgin was a botch compared with it. I remembered that mademoiselle, whohad given me half my wealth, the half that won me the rest, had biddenme buy something in the marts of Paris; and I told myself with pridethat she could not fail to hold me high did she know how, passing by allvanities, I had spent my whole store for a holy image. Few boys of myage would be capable of the like. Certes, I had done piously, and shouldnow take a further pious joy, my purchase safe on my neck, in thwartingthe wiles of this serpent. I would play with him awhile, tease andbaffle him, before handing him over in triumph to Vigo.
Sure enough, he began as I had expected:
"This M. de Mar down-stairs, he is a very good master, I suppose?"
"Yes," I said, without enthusiasm.
"He has always treated you well?"
I bethought myself of the trick I had played successfully with theofficer of the burgess guard.
"Why, yes, I suppose so. I have only known him two days."
"But you have known him well? You have seen much of him?" he demandedwith ill-concealed eagerness.
"But not so very much," I made tepid answer. "I have not been with himall the time of these two days. I have seen really very little of him."
"And you know not whether or no he be a good master?"
"Oh, pretty good. So-so."
He sprang forward to deal me a stinging box on the ear.
I was out of bed at one bound, scattering the trinkets in a golden rainand rushing for him. He retreated before me. It was to save his jewels,but I, fool that I was, thought it pure fear of me. I dashed at him, allheadlong confidence; the next I knew he had somehow twisted his footbetween mine, and tripped me before I could grapple. Never was wightmore confounded to find himself on the floor.
I was starting up again unhurt when I saw something that made me toforget my purpose. I sat still where I was, with dropped jaw and bulgingeyes. For his hair, that had been black, was golden.
"Ventre bleu!" I said.
"And so you know not you little villain, whether you have a good masteror not?"
"But how was I to dream it was monsieur?" I cried, confounded. "I knewthere was something queer about him--about you, I mean--about the personI took you for, that is. I knew there was something wrong aboutyou--that is to say, I mean, I thought there was; I mean I knew hewasn't what he seemed--you were not. And Peyrot fooled us, and I didn'twant to be fooled again."
"Then I am a good master?" he demanded truculently, advancing upon me.
I put up my hands to my ears.
"The best, monsieur. And monsieur wrestled well, too."
"I can't prove that by you, Felix," he retorted, and laughed in mynettled face. "Well, if you've not trampled on my jewels, I forgive yourcontumacy."
If I had, my bare toes had done them no harm. I crawled about the floor,gathering them all up and putting them on the bed, where I presently satdown myself to stare at him, trying to realize him for M. le Comte. Hehad seated himself, too, and was dusting his trampled wig and clappingit on again.
He had shaved off his mustaches and the tuft on his chin, and the wholelook of him was changed. A year had gone for every stroke of the razor;he seemed such a boy, so particularly guileless! He had stained his faceso well that it looked for all the world as though the Southern sun haddone it for him; his eyebrows and, lashes were dark by nature. His wigcame much lower over his forehead than did his own hair, and altered theupper part of his face as much as the shaving of the lower. Only hiseyes were the same. He had had his back to the window at first, and Ihad not noted them; but now that he had turned, his eyes gleamed solight as to be fairly startling in his dark face--like stars in a stormysky.
"Well, then, how do you like me?"
"Monsieur confounds me. It's witchery. I cannot get used to him."
"That's as I would have it," he returned, coming over to the bedside toarrange his treasures. "For if I look new to you, I think I may look soto the Hotel de Lorraine."
"Monsieur goes to the Hotel de Lorraine as a jeweller?" I cried,enlightened.
"Aye. And if the ladies do not crowd about me--" he broke off with agesture, and put his trays back in his box.
"Well, I wondered, monsieur. I wondered if we were going to sellornaments to Peyrot."
He locked the box and proceeded solemnly and thoroughly to damn Peyrot.He cursed him waking, cursed him sleeping; cursed him eating, cursed himdrinking; cursed him walking, riding, sitting; cursed him summer, cursedhim winter; cursed him young, cursed him old; living, dying, and dead. Iinferred that the packet had not been recovered.
"No, pardieu! Vigo went straight on horseback to the Bonne Femme, butPeyrot had vanished. So he galloped round to the Rue Tournelles, whitherhe had sent two of our men before him, but the bird was flown. He hadbeen home half an hour before,--he left the inn just after us,--hadpaid his arrears of rent, surrendered his key, and taken away his chest,with all his worldly goods in it, on the shoulders of two porters, boundfor parts unknown. Gilles is scouring Paris for him. Mordieu, I wish himluck!"
His face betokened little hope of Gilles. We both kept chagrinedsilence.
"And we thought him sleeping!" presently cried he.
"Well," he added, rising, "that milk's spilt; no use crying over it.Plan a better venture; that's the only course. Monsieur is gone back toSt. Denis to report to the king. Marry, he makes as little of thesegates as if he were a tennis-ball and they the net. Time was when hethought he must plan and prepare, and know the captain of the watch, andgo masked at midnight. He has got bravely over that now; he bounces inand out as easily as kiss my hand. I pray he may not try it once toooften."
"Mayenne dare not touch him."
"What Mayenne may dare is not good betting. Monsieur thinks he daresnot. Monsieur has come through so many perils of late, he is happilyconvinced he bears a charmed life. Felix, do you come with me to theHotel de Lorraine?"
"Ah, monsieur!" I cried, bethinking myself that I had forgotten todress.
"Nay, you need not don these
clothes," he interposed, with a look ofwickedness which I could not interpret. "Wait; I'm back anon."
He darted out of the room, to return speedily with an armful of apparel,which he threw on the bed.
"Monsieur," I gasped in horror, "it's woman's gear!"
"Verily."
"Monsieur! you cannot mean me to wear this!"
"I mean it precisely."
"Monsieur!"
"Why, look you, Felix," he laughed, "how else am I to take you? You wereat pains to make yourself conspicuous in M. de Mayenne's salon; theywill recognize you as quickly as me."
"Oh, monsieur, put me in a wig, in cap and bells, an you like! I will bemonsieur's clown, anything, only not this!"
"I never heard of a jeweller accompanied by his clown. Nor have I anyparty-colour in my armoires. But since I have exerted myself to borrowthis toggery,--and a fine, big lass is the owner, so I think it willfit,--you must wear it."
I was like to burst with mortification; I stood there in dumb, agonizedappeal.
"Oh, well, then you need not go at all. If you go, you go as Felicie.But you may stay at home, if it likes you better."
That settled me. I would have gone in my grave-clothes sooner than notgo at all, and belike he knew it. I began arraying myself sullenly andclumsily in the murrain petticoats.
There was a full kirtle of gray wool, falling to my ankles, and a whiteapron. There was a white blouse with a wide, turned-back collar, and ascarlet bodice, laced with black cords over a green tongue. I was soonin such a desperate tangle over these divers garments, so utterlymuddled as to which to put on first, and which side forward, and whichend up, and where and how by the grace of God to fasten them, that M.Etienne, with roars of laughter, came unsteadily to my aid. He insistedon stuffing the whole of my jerkin under my blouse to give my figure theproper curves, and to make me a waist he drew the lacing-cords till Iwas like to suffocate. His mirth had by this time got me to laughing sothat every time he pulled me in, a fit of merriment would jerk the lacesfrom his fingers before he could tie them. This happened once and again,and the more it happened the more we laughed and the less he could dressme. I ached in every rib, and the tears were running down his cheeks,washing little clean channels in the stain.
"Felix, this will never do," he gasped when at length he could speak."Never after a carouse have I been so maudlin. Compose yourself, for thelove of Heaven. Think of something serious; think of me! Think ofPeyrot, think of Mayenne, think of Lucas. Think of what will happen tous now if Mayenne know us for ourselves."
"Enough, monsieur," I said. "I am sobered."
But even now that I held still we could not draw the last holes in thebodice-point nearly together.
"Nay, monsieur, I can never wear it like this," I panted, when he hadtied it as tight as he could. "I shall die, or I shall burst the seams."He had perforce to give me more room; he pulled the apron higher tocover gaps, and fastened a bunch of keys and a pocket at my waist. Heset a brown wig on my head, nearly covered by a black mortier, with itswide scarf hanging down my back.
"Hang me, but you make a fine, strapping grisette," he cried, proud ofme as if I were a picture, he the painter. "Felix, you've no notion howhandsome you look. Dame! you defrauded the world when you contrived tobe born a boy."
"I thank my stars I was born a boy," I declared. "I wouldn't get intothis toggery for any one else on earth. I tell monsieur that, flat."
"You must change your shoes," he cried eagerly. "Your hobnails spoilall."
I put one of his gossip's shoes on the floor beside my foot.
"Now, monsieur, I ask you, how am I to get into that?"
"Shall I fetch you Vigo's?" he grinned.
"No, Constant's," I said instantly, thinking how it would make himwrithe to lend them.
"Constant's best," he promised, disappearing. It was as good as a playto see my lord running errands for me. Perhaps he forgot, after a monthin the Rue Coupejarrets, that such things as pages existed; or, morelikely, he did not care to take the household into his confidence. Hewas back soon, with a pair of scarlet hose, and shoes of red morocco,the gayest affairs you ever saw. Also he brought a hand-mirror, for meto look on my beauty.
"Nay, monsieur," I said with a sulk that started anew his laughter."I'll not take it; I want not to see myself. But monsieur will do wellto examine his own countenance."
"Pardieu! I should say so," he cried. "I must e'en go repair myself; andyou, Felix,--Felicie,--must be fed."
I was in truth as hollow as a drum, yet I cried out that I had ratherstarve than venture into the kitchen.
"You flatter yourself," he retorted. "You'd not be known. Old Jumel willgive you the pick of the larder for a kiss," he roared in my sullenface, and added, relenting: "Well, then, I will send one of the lackeysup with a salver. The lazy beggars have naught else to do."
I bolted the door after him, and when the man brought my tray, bade himset it down outside. He informed me through the panels that he would godrown himself before he would be content to lie slugabed the livelongday while his betters waited on him. I trembled for fear in his virtuousscorn he should take his fardel away again. But he had had his orders.When, after listening to his footsteps descending the stairs, I reachedout a cautious arm, the tray was on the floor. The generous meat andwine put new heart into me; by the time my lord returned I was eager forthe enterprise.
"Have you finished?" he demanded. "Faith, I see you have. Then let usstart; it grows late. The shadows, like good Mussulmans, are stretchingto the east. I must catch the ladies in their chambers before supper.Come, we'll take the box between us."
"Why, monsieur, I carry that on my shoulders."
"What, my lass, on your dainty shoulders? Nay, 'twould make thetownsfolk stare."
I gnawed my lip in silence; he exclaimed:
"Now, never have I seen a maid fresh from the convent blush so prettily.I'd give my right hand to walk you out past the guard-room."
I shrank as a snail when you touch its horns. He cried:
"Marry, but I will, though!"
Now I, unlike Sir Snail, had no snug little fortress to take refuge in;I might writhe, but I could not defend myself.
"As you will, monsieur," I said, setting my teeth hard.
"Nay, I dare not. Those fellows would follow us laughing to the doors ofLorraine House itself. I've told none of this prank; I have evencontrived to send all the lackeys out of doors on fools' errands. We'llsneak out like thieves by the postern. Come, tread your wariest."
On tiptoe, with the caution of malefactors, we crept from stair tostair, giggling under our breath like the callow lad and saucy lass welooked to be. We won in safety to the postern, and came out to face theterrible eye of the world.