XXIX

  _The two dukes._

  Mademoiselle being given into Dame Verney's motherly hands, Gilles and Iwere ordered to repose ourselves on the skins in the saddler's shop.Lying there in the malodourous gloom, I could see the crack of lightunder the door at the back and hear, between Gilles's snores, the murmurof voices. The king and his gentlemen were planning to save my master; Iwent to sleep in perfect peace.

  At daybreak, even before the saddler opened the shop, Monsieur routed usout.

  "I'm off for Paris, lads. Felix comes with me. Gilles stays to guardmademoiselle."

  I felt not a little injured, deeming that I, whom mademoiselle knewbest, should not be the one chosen to stay by her. But the sting passedquickly. After all, Paris was likely to be more exciting than St. Denis.

  The day being Friday, we delayed not to eat, but straightway mounted thetwo nags that a sunburnt Bearn pikeman had brought to the door. As wewalked them gently across the square, which at this rath hour we aloneshared with the twittering birds, we saw coming down one of the emptystreets the hurrying figure of M. de Rosny. My lord drew rein at once.

  "You are no slugabed, St. Quentin," the young councillor called. "Ideserved to miss you. Fear not! I come not to hinder you, but to wishyou God-speed."

  "Now, this is kind, Rosny," Monsieur answered, grasping his hand. "Themore that you don't approve me."

  Rosny smiled, like a sudden burst of sunshine in a December day. Anotherman's embrace would have meant less.

  "I approve you so much, St. Quentin, that I cannot composedly see youputting your head into the lion's jaws."

  "My head is used to the pillow. Do the teeth close, I am no worse offthan my son."

  "Your death makes your son's no easier."

  "Why, what else to do, Rosny?" Monsieur exclaimed. "Mishandle the lady?Storm Paris? Sell the Cause?"

  "I would we could storm Paris," Rosny sighed. "It would suit me betterto seize the prisoner than to sue for him. But Paris is not ripe for usyet. You know my plan--to send to Villeroi. I believe he could managethis thing."

  "I am second to none," Monsieur said politely, "in my admiration of M.de Villeroi's abilities. But to reach him is uncertain; what he can orwill do, uncertain. Etienne de Mar is not Villeroi's son; he is mine."

  "Aye, it is your business," Rosny assented. "It is yours to take yourway."

  "A mad way, but mine. But come, now, Rosny, you must admit that once ortwice, when all your wiseacres were deadlocked, my madness has served."

  Rosny took Monsieur's hand in a silent grip.

  "Maximilien," the duke said, smiling down on him, "what a pity you are ascamp of a heretic!"

  "Henri," Rosny returned gravely, "I would you had had the good fortuneto be born in the Religion."

  Again he wished us God-speed, and we gathered up our reins. As we turnedthe corner I glanced back to find him still standing as we had left him,gazing soberly after us.

  The man who was going into the lion's den was far less solemn over it.By fits and starts, as he thought on his son's great danger, hecontrived a gloomy countenance: but Monsieur had ridden all his lifewith Hope on the pillion; she did not desert him now. As we canteredsteadily along in the fresh, cool morning, he already pictured M.Etienne released. However mad he acknowledged his errand to be, I thinkhe was scarce visited by a doubt of its success. It was impossible tohim that his son should not be saved.

  We entered with perfect ease the gate of Paris, and took our way withouthesitancy through the busiest streets. Nowhere did the guard spring onus, but, instead, more than once, the passers-by gathered in knots, thetradesmen and artisans ran out of their shops to cheer St. Quentin, tocheer France, to cheer peace, to cheer to the echo the Catholic king.

  "I hope Mayenne hears them," Monsieur said to me, doffing his hat to abig farrier who had come out of his smithy waving impudently in the eyeof all the world the white flag of the king.

  We kept a brisk pace alike where they cheered us and where, in otherstreets, they scowled and hooted at us, so that I looked out for menwith pistols in second-story windows. But, friend or foe, none stoppedus till at length we drew rein before the grilles of the Hotel deLorraine.

  They made no demur at admitting us. Monsieur went into the house, whileI led the horses to the stables, where three or four grooms at oncevolunteered to rub them down, in eagerness to pump their guardian. Butbefore the fellows had had time to get much out of me came JeanMarchand, all unrecognizing, to summon me indoors. I followed him indelight, partly for curiosity, partly because it had seemed to me whenthe doorway swallowed Monsieur that I might never see him more. Jeanushered me into the well-remembered council-room, where Monsieur stoodalone, surprised at the sight of me.

  "A lackey came for me," I said. "Look, Monsieur, that's where we shut upLucas."

  I ceased hastily, for I knew the step in the corridor.

  It was difficult to credit mademoiselle's tale, to believe that Mayennecould ever be in a rage. In he came, big and calm and smiling, whateveremotion he may have felt at Monsieur's arrival not only buried, but witha flower-bed blooming over it. He greeted his guest with all thecourteous ease of an unruffled conscience and a kindly heart. Not tillhis glance fell on me did he show any sign of discomposure.

  "What, you!" he exclaimed brusquely.

  "Your servant brought him hither," Monsieur said for me.

  "I understood that one of your gentlemen had come with you. I sent forhim, deeming his presence might conduce to your ease, M. de St.Quentin."

  "I am at my ease, M. de Mayenne," my lord answered, with everyappearance of truth. "You may go, Felix."

  "No," said Mayenne. "Since he is here, he may stay. He serves thepurpose as well as another."

  He did not say what the purpose was, nor could I see for what he hadkept me, unless as a sign to Monsieur that he meant to play fair. Ibegan to feel somewhat heartened.

  "You have guessed, M. de Mayenne, my errand?"

  "Certainly. You have come to join the League."

  Monsieur laughed out.

  "On the contrary, M. de Mayenne, I have come to persuade you to join theKing."

  "That was a waste of horse-flesh."

  "My friend, you know as well as we do that before long you will comeover."

  "I am not there yet, nor are my enemies scattered, nor is the Leaguedead."

  "Dying, my lord. It will get its coup de grace o' Sunday, when the kinggoes to mass."

  "St. Quentin," Mayenne made quiet answer, "when I am in such case thatnothing remains to me but to fall on my sword or to kneel to Henry, beassured I shall kneel to Henry. Till then I play my game."

  "Play it, then. We have the patience to wait for you, monsieur. Beassured, in your turn, that when you do come on your knees to hisMajesty you will do well to have a friend or two at court."

  "Morbleu," Mayenne cried, suddenly showing his teeth, "you will never goback to him if I choose to stop you!"

  Monsieur raised his eyebrows at him, pained by the unsuavity.

  "Of course not, monsieur. I quite understood that when I entered thegate. I shall never leave this house if you will otherwise."

  "You will leave the house unharmed," Mayenne said curtly. "I shall nottreat you as your late master treated my brother."

  "I thank your generosity, monsieur, and commend your good sense."

  Mayenne looked for a moment as if he repented of both. Then he brokeinto a laugh.

  "One permits the insolences of the court jester."

  Monsieur sprang up, his hand on his sword. But at once the quick flushpassed from his face, and he, too, laughed.

  Mayenne sat as he was, in somewhat lowering silence. My duke made astep nearer him, and spoke for the first time with perfect seriousness.

  "My Lord Mayenne, it was no outrecuidance brought me here this morning.There is the Bastille. There is the axe. I know that my course has beenoffensive to you--your nephew proved me that. I know also that you donot care to meddle with me openly. At least, you
have not meddled.Whether you will change your method--but I venture to believe not. I ampopular just now in Paris. I had more cheers as I came in this morningthan have met your ears for many a month. You have a great name forprudence, M. de Mayenne; I believe you will not molest me."

  I hardly thought my duke was making a great name for prudence. But then,as he said, he had to work in his own way. Mayenne returned, withchilling calm:

  "You may find me, St. Quentin, less timid than you suppose."

  "Impossible. Mayenne's courage is unquestioned. I rely not on histimidity, but on his judgment."

  "You take a great deal upon yourself in supposing that I wanted yourdeath on Tuesday and do not want it on Friday."

  "The king is three days nearer the true faith than on Tuesday. His partyis three days stronger. On Tuesday it would have been a blunder to killme; on Friday it is three days worse a blunder."

  "But not less a pleasure. I have had something of the kind in mind eversince your master killed my brother."

  "You should profit by that murderer's experience before you take a leaffrom his book, M. de Mayenne. Henry of Valois gained singularly littlewhen he slew Guise to make you head of the League."

  Mayenne started, and then laughed to show his scorn of the flattery. ButI think he was, all the same, half pleased, none the less because heknew it to be flattery. He said unexpectedly:

  "Your son comes honestly by his unbound tongue."

  "Ah, my son! Now that you mention him, we shall discuss him a little.You have put my son, monsieur, in the Bastille."

  "No; Belin and my nephew Paul, whom you know, have put him there."

  "But M. de Mayenne can get him out if he choose."

  "If he choose."

  Monsieur sat down again, with the air of one preparing for an amiablediscussion.

  "He is charged with the murder of one Pontou, a lackey. Of course he didnot commit it, nor would you care if he had. His real offence is makinglove to your ward."

  "Well, do you deny it?"

  "Not the love, but the offence of it. Palpably you might do much worsethan dispose of the lady to my heir."

  "I might do much better than bestow my time on you if that is all youhave to say."

  "We have hardly opened the subject, M. de Mayenne--"

  "I have no wish to carry it further."

  "Monsieur, the king's ranks afford no better match than my heir."

  "No maid of mine shall ever marry a Royalist."

  "I swore no son of mine should ever marry a Leaguer, but I have come tosee the error of my ways, as you will see yours, Mayenne. It is for youto choose where among the king's forces you will marry mademoiselle."

  A vague uneasiness, a fear which he would not own a fear, crept intoMayenne's eyes. He studied the face before him, a face of gay challenge,and said, at length, not quite confidently himself:

  "You speak with a confidence, St. Quentin."

  "Why, to be sure."

  Mayenne jumped heavily to his feet.

  "What mean you?"

  "I mean that mademoiselle's marrying is in my hands. Where is your ward,M. de Mayenne?"

  "Mordieu! Have you found her?"

  "You speak sooth."

  "In your hotel--"

  "No, eager kinsman. In a place whither you cannot follow her."

  Mayenne looked about, as if with some instinctive idea of seeking aweapon, of summoning his soldiers.

  "By God's throne, you shall tell me where!"

  "With pleasure. She is at St. Denis."

  Mayenne cried helplessly, as numbed under a blow:

  "St. Denis! But how--"

  "How came she there? On foot, every step. I suppose she never walkedtwo streets in her life before, has she, M. de Mayenne? But she trampedto St. Denis through the dark, to knock at my door at one in themorning."

  Mayenne seized Monsieur's wrist.

  "She is safe, St. Quentin? She is safe?"

  "As safe, monsieur, as the king's protection can make her."

  "Pardieu! Is she with the king?"

  "She is at my lodgings, in the care of the saddler's wife who lets them.I left a staunch man in charge--I have no doubt of him."

  "You answer for her safety?" Mayenne cried huskily; his breath comingshort. He was flushed, the veins in his forehead corded.

  "When she came last night, it happened that the king was there,"Monsieur went on. "Her loveliness and her misery moved him to theheart."

  "Thousand thunders of heaven! You, with your son, shall be hostages forher safe return."

  "The king," Monsieur went on, as immovably as Mayenne himself at hisbest, "with that warm heart of his pitying beauty in distress, is eagerfor mademoiselle's marriage with her lover Mar. But he did not favour myventure here; he called it a silly business. He said you would clap mein jail, and he told me flat I might rot my life out there before hewould give up to you Mlle. de Montluc."

  "Well, then, pardieu, we'll try if he means it!"

  "He gave me to understand that he meant it. The St. Quentins out of theway, there is Valere, stout Kingsman, to succeed. The king loseslittle."

  "Then are you gone mad that you put yourself in my grasp?"

  "I was never saner. I come, my friend, to make you listen to sanity."

  I had waited from moment to moment Mayenne's summons to his soldiers.But he had not rung, and now he flung himself down again in hisarm-chair.

  "What, to your understanding, is sanity?"

  "If you send me to join my son, monsieur, you leave mademoiselle withouta protector, friendless, penniless, in the midst of a hostile armycursing the name of Mayenne. Have you reared her delicately, tenderly,for that?"

  Mayenne sat silent, his face a mask. It was impossible to tell whetherthe shot hit. Monsieur went on:

  "You can of course hold us in durance, torture us, kill us; but you mustanswer for it to the people of Paris."

  Still was Mayenne silent, drumming on the edge of the table. Finally hesaid roughly, as if the words were dragged from him against his will:

  "I shall not torture you. I never meant to torture Mar. The arrest wasnot my work. Since it was done, I meant to profit by it to keep himawhile out of my way--only that. I threatened my cousin otherwise inheat of passion. But I shall not torture him. I shall not kill him."

  "Monsieur--"

  "I put a card in your hand," Mayenne said curtly. His pride ill brookedto concede the point, but he could not have it supposed that he did notsee what he was doing. "I give you a card. Do what you can with it."

  "Monsieur, you show what little surprises me--knightly generosity. It isto that generosity I appeal."

  "Is the horse of that colour? But now you were frightening my prudence."

  "Ah, but how fortunate the man to whom generosity and prudence point thesame path!"

  It may have been but pretence, this smiling bonhomie of Monsieur's.Mayenne doubtless gauged it as such, but, at any rate, he suffered it towarm him. He regained of a sudden all the amiability with which he hadgreeted his guest. Smiling and calm, he answered:

  "St. Quentin, I care little for either your threats or your cajoleries.They amuse me alike, and move me not. But I have a care for my sweetcousin. Since you threaten me with her danger, you have the whiphand."

  Now it was Monsieur's turn to sit discreetly silent, waiting.

  "I went last night to tell the child I would not harm her lover. Lo! shehad flown. I had a regiment searching Paris for her. I was in thestreets myself till dawn."

  "Monsieur, she made her way to us at St. Denis to offer herself to ourtorture did you torture Mar."

  "Morbleu!" Mayenne cried, half rising.

  "God's mercy, we're not ruffians out there! I tell it to show you towhat the maid was strung."

  "I never thought it great matter whom one married," Mayenne saidslowly: "one boy is much like another. I should have mated her asbefitted her station--I thought she would be happy enough. And she wasgood about it: I did not see how deep she cared. She was docile ti
ll Idrove her too hard. She's a loving child. You are fortunate in yourdaughter, St. Quentin."

  Monsieur sprang up radiant, advancing on him open-armed. Mayenne added,with his cool smile:

  "You need not flatter yourself, Monsieur, that it is your doing. I laughat your threats. 'Twere sport to me to clap you behind bars, to say toyour king, to the mob you brag of, 'Come, now, get him out.'"

  "Then," cried Monsieur, "I must value my sweet daughter more than ever."

  He was standing over Mayenne with outstretched hand, but the chiefdelayed taking it.

  "Not quite so fast, my friend. If I yield up the Duc de St. Quentin, theComte de Mar, and Mlle. Lorance de Montluc, I demand certain littleconcessions for myself."

  "By all means, monsieur. You stamp us churls else."

  My duke sat again, his smile a shade uneasy. Which Mayenne perceivedwith quiet enjoyment, as he went on blandly: "Nothing that I could askof you, M. de St. Quentin, could equal, could halve, what I give. Still,that the knightliness may not be, to your mortification, all on oneside, I have thought of something for you to grant."

  "Name it, monsieur."

  "Another point in your favour I had forgot," Mayenne observed, with hisusual reluctance to show his cards even when the time had come to spreadthem. "Last night I laid on this table a packet, just arrived, which Iwas told belonged to you. When I had time to think of it again, it hadvanished. I accused my lackeys, but later it occurred to me that Mlle.de Montluc, arming for battle, had purloined it."

  "Your shrewdness does you credit."

  "You see you have scored a fourth point, though again by no prowess ofyour own. Therefore am I emboldened to demand what I want."

  "Even to half my fortune--"

  "No, not your gear. Save that for your Bearnais's itching palm."

  "Then what the devil is it you want? You will not get my name in theLeague."

  "I am glad my nephew Paul bungled that affair of his," Mayenne went onat his own pace. "It might have been a blunder to kill you; it hadcertainly been a pity. Though we Lorraines have two murders to avenge, Ihave changed my mind about beginning with yours."

  "You are wise, monsieur. I am, after all, a harmless creature."

  Mayenne laughed.

  "Natheless have you done your best here in Paris to undermine me. Did Ilet you carry on your little works unhindered, they might in time annoyme. Therefore I request that so long as I stay in Paris you stay out."

  "Oh, I don't like that!"

  The naivete amazed while it amused Mayenne.

  "Possibly not, but you will consent to it. You will ride out of mycourt, when we have finished some necessary signing of papers, straightto the St. Denis gate. And you will pledge me your honour to make noattempt hereafter to enter so long as the city is mine."

  Mayenne was smiling broadly, Monsieur frowning. He relished thecondition little. He was enjoying himself much in Paris, his dangers,his successes, his biting his thumb at the power of the League. To bekilled at his post was nothing, but to be bundled away from it toinglorious safety, that stuck in his gorge. For a moment he actuallyhesitated. Then he began to laugh at his own hesitation.

  "Well, ma foi! what do I expect? To walk, a rabbit, into the lion's denand make my own terms to Leo? I am happy to accept yours, M. de Mayenne,especially since, do I refuse, you will none the less pack me off."

  "You mistake, St. Quentin. You are welcome to spend the rest of yourdays with me."

  "In the Bastille?"

  "Or in the League."

  "The former is preferable."

  "You may count yourself thrice fortunate, then, that a third alternativeis given you."

  "It needs not the reminder. You have treated me as a prince indeed. Beassured the St. Quentins will not forget."

  "Every one forgets."

  "Perhaps. But when you need our good offices we shall not have had timeto forget."

  "Pardieu, St. Quentin, you have good courage to tell me to my head mycourse is run!"

  "My dear Mayenne, none punishes the maunderings of the court jester."

  Monsieur laughed out with a gay gusto; after a moment Mayenne laughedtoo. My duke cried quickly, rising and walking the length of the tableto his host:

  "You have dealt with me munificently, Mayenne. You have kept back butone thing I want. That is yourself. You know you must come over to ussooner or later. Come now!"

  The other did not flame out at Monsieur, but answered coldly:

  "I have no taste to be Navarre's vassal."

  "Better his than Spain's."

  Mayenne shrugged his shoulders, his face at its stolidest.

  "Well, I am no astrologer to read the future."

  Monsieur laid an emphatic hand on his host's shoulder.

  "But I read it, my friend. I see a French land under a French king, aCatholic and a gallant fellow, faithful to old friends, friendly to oldfoes. I see the dear land at peace at last, the looms humming, the millsclacking, wheat growing thick on the battle-fields."

  Mayenne looked up with a grim smile.

  "I have still a field or two to water for that wheat. My compliments toyour new master, St. Quentin; you may tell him from me that when Isubmit, I submit. When I have made my surrender, from that hour forth amI his hound to lick his hand, to guard and obey him. Till then, let himbeware of my teeth! While I have one pikeman to my back, one sou in mypouch, I fight my cause."

  "And when you have none, you yet have three pairs of hands at Henry'scourt to pull you up out of the mire."

  "I thank their graciousness, though I shall never need their offices,"Mayenne said grandly. He stood there stately and proud and confident,the picture of princeliness and strength. Last night at St. Denis it hadseemed to me that no power could defy my king. Now it seemed to me thatno king could nick the power of my Lord Mayenne. When suddenly,precisely like a mummer who in his great moment winks at you to let youknow it is make-believe, the general-duke's dignity melted into a smile.

  "After all," he said, "it's as well to lay an anchor to windward."

 
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