An Enemy to the King

  CHAPTER IV.

  HOW LA TOURNOIRE WAS ENLIGHTENED IN THE DARK

  It was already dark when I started, on the evening appointed, for thehouse indicated by Mlle. d'Arency. I went without attendance, as was mycustom, relying on my sword, my alertness of eye, and my nimbleness offoot. I had engaged a lackey, for whose honesty De Rilly had vouched, buthe was now absent on a journey to La Tournoire, whither I had sent himwith a message to my old steward. I have often wondered at the goodfortune which preserved me from being waylaid, by thieving rascals, on myperegrinations, by night, through Paris streets. About this very timeseveral gentlemen, who went well attended, were set upon and robbedalmost within sight of the quarters of the provost's watch; and some ofthese lost their lives as well as the goods upon their persons. Yet Iwent fearlessly, and was never even threatened with attack.

  On the way to the house, I reviewed, for the hundredth time, theconversation in the church. There were different conjectures to be made.Mlle. d'Arency may have made that surprising request merely to convinceme that she did not love De Noyard, and intending, subsequently, towithdraw it; or it may have sprung from a caprice, a desire to ascertainhow far I was at her bidding,--women have, thoughtlessly, set men suchtasks from mere vanity, lacking the sympathy to feel how precious to itsowner is any human life other than their own;--or she may have had somesubstantial reason to desire his death, something to gain by it,something to lose through his continuing to live. Perhaps she hadencouraged his love and had given him a promise from which his deathwould be the means of release easiest to her,--for women will, sometimes,to secure the smallest immunity for themselves, allow the greatestcalamities to others. This arises less from an active cruelty than from alack of imagination, an inability to suppose themselves in the places ofothers. I soon felt the uselessness of searching, in my own mind, for themotive of Mlle. d'Arency's desire, or pretence of desire, for the deathof De Noyard. What had passed between them I could not guess. So, afterthe manner of youth, I gave up the question, satisfied with knowing thatI had before me an interview with a charming woman, and willing to waitfor disclosures until events should offer them.

  The street in which the house was situated was entirely dark anddeserted when I stepped into it. The house was wider than its neighbors,and each of its upper stories had two chambers overlooking the street. Atthe window of one of these chambers, on the second story, a light shone.It was the only light visible in any of the houses, all of which frowneddown menacingly; and hence it was like a beacon, a promise of cheer andwarmth in the midst of this black, cold Paris.

  I knocked three times on the street door, as she had directed me.Presently the wicket at the side of the door was opened, and a light washeld up to it, that my face might be seen by a pair of eyes that peeredout through the aperture. A moment later the bolts of the door weredrawn, and I was let in by the possessor of the eyes. This was theelderly woman who always attended Mlle. d'Arency when the latter wasabroad from the palace. She had invariably shown complete indifference tome, not appearing aware of my existence, and this time she said only:

  "This way, monsieur."

  Protecting the flame of her lamp with her hand, she led me forward to anarrow staircase and we ascended, stopping at a landing on which openedthe second story chamber whose street window had shone with light. Shegave three knocks at the door of this chamber. At the last knock, herlamp went out.

  "Curse the wind!" she muttered.

  So I stood with her, on the landing, in darkness, expecting the door infront of me to open, immediately, and admit me to the lighted chamber.

  Suddenly I heard a piercing scream from within the chamber. It was thevoice of Mlle. d'Arency.

  "Help! Help!" she cried. "My God, he will kill me!"

  This was followed by one long series of screams, and I could hear herrunning about the chamber as though she were fleeing from a pursuer.

  I stood for an instant, startled.

  "Good God!" cried the old woman at my elbow. "An assassin! Her enemieshave planned it! Monsieur, save her life!"

  And the dame began pounding on the door, as if to break into the room toassist her mistress.

  I needed no more than this example. Discovering that the door waslocked on the inside, and assuming that Mlle. d'Arency, in the flightwhich she maintained around the room, could not get an opportunity todraw the bolt, I threw my weight forward, and sent the door flying openon its hinges.

  To my astonishment, the chamber was in complete darkness. Mlle. d'Arencyhad doubtless knocked the light over in her movements around the room.

  She was still screaming at the top of her voice, and running from oneside to another. The whiteness of the robe she wore made it possible todescry her in the absence of light.

  I stood for a second, just inside the threshold, and drew my sword. Atfirst, I could not see by whom or what she was threatened; but I heardheavy footsteps, as of some one following her in her wild course aboutthe place. Then I made out, vaguely, the figure of a man.

  "Fear not, mademoiselle!" I cried.

  "Oh, monsieur!" she screamed. "Save me! Save my life!"

  I thrust my sword at the figure of the man. An ejaculation of pain toldme that it touched flesh. A second later, I heard a sword slide from itsscabbard, and felt the wind of a wild thrust in my direction.

  At this moment, Mlle d'Arency appeared between me and the street windowof the room. There was enough light from the sky to enable her head andshoulders to stand out darkly against the space of the window. Her headwas moving with the violent coming and going of her breath, and hershoulders were drawn up in an attitude of the greatest fright. Is it anywonder that I did not stop to ascertain who or what her assailant mightbe, or how he had come there? I could make out only that the man in thedarkness was a large and heavy one, and wielded a swift blade. All otherthoughts were lost in the immediate necessity of dealing with him. Theextreme terror that she showed gave me a sense of his being a formidableantagonist; the prompt response that he had given to my own thrust showedthat he was not to be quelled by a mere command. In fine, there wasnothing to do but fight him as best I could in the blackness; and I wasglad for so early an opportunity to show Mlle. d'Arency how ready I wasto do battle for her when I found her threatened with danger.

  From the absence of any sound or other demonstration, except what wasmade by Mlle. d'Arency and the man and myself, I knew that we three werethe only ones in the room. The elderly woman had not entered with me,--afact whose strangeness, in view of the great desire she had first evincedto reach her mistress's side, did not occur to me until afterward.

  I made another thrust at the man, but, despite the darkness, he parriedit with his sword; and a quick backward step was all that saved me fromhis prompt reply. Angered at having to give ground in the presence of thelady, I now attacked in turn, somewhat recklessly, but with such goodluck as to drive him back almost to the window. Mlle. d'Arency gaveanother terrified scream when he came near her, and she ran past metowards the door of the apartment. Both my antagonist and myself werenow beginning to have a clearer impression of each other's outlines, andthere was sharp sword-work between us by the window. As we stood there,breathing rapidly with our exertion and excitement, I heard the doorclose through which I had entered. I knew from this that Mlle. d'Arencyhad left the chamber, and I was glad that she was out of danger. It wasnatural that she should close the door, instinct impelling her to put anypossible barrier between her assailant and herself.

  The man and myself were alone together to maintain the fight which,having once entered, and being roused to the mood of contest, I had nothought of discontinuing now that Mlle. d'Arency was out of immediatedanger. It had reached a place at which it could be terminated only bythe disarming, the death, or the disabling of one of us.

  I gradually acquired the power of knowing all my opponent's movements,despite the darkness. I supposed that he was equipped with dagger as wellas with sword, but as he made no move to draw the shorter weapon, I didnot hav
e recourse to mine. Though I would not take an advantage over him,even in the circumstances, yet I was not willing to be at a disadvantage.Therefore, as he was not encumbered with cloak or mantle, I employed abreathing moment to tear off my own cloak and throw it aside, notchoosing to use it on my left arm as a shield unless he had beensimilarly guarded.

  So we lunged and parried in the darkness, making no sound but by ourheavy breathing and an occasional ejaculation and the tramping of ourfeet, the knocking of our bodies against unseen pieces of furniture, andthe clashing of our blades when they met. Each of us fenced cautiously attimes, and at times took chances recklessly.

  Finally, in falling back, he came to a sudden stop against a table, andthe collision disturbed for an instant his control over his body. In thatinstant I felt a soft resistance encounter my sword and yield to it. Atonce, with a feeling of revulsion, I drew my sword out of the casing thathis flesh had provided, and stood back. Something wet and warm sprinkledmy face. The man gave a low moan and staggered sideways over towards thewindow. Then he plunged forward on his face. I stooped beside him andturned him over on his back, wetting my gloves with the blood that gushedfrom his wound and soaked his doublet. At that moment a splash ofmoonlight appeared on the floor, taking the shape of the window. His headand shoulders lay in this illumined space. I sprang back in horror,crying out his name:

  "De Noyard! My God, it is you!"

  "Yes, monsieur," he gasped, "it is De Noyard. I have been trapped. Iought to have suspected."

  "But I do not understand, monsieur. Surely you could not have attackedMlle. d'Arency?"

  "Attacked her! I came here by her appointment!"

  "But her cry for help?"

  "It took me by complete surprise. There was a knock on the door--"

  "Yes,--mine. I, too, came by her appointment!"

  "Mademoiselle instantly put out the light and began to scream. I thoughtthat the knock frightened her; then that she was mad. I followed to calmher. You entered; you know the rest."

  "But what does it mean?"

  "Can you not see?" he said, with growing faintness. "We have beentricked,--I, by her pretense of love and by this appointment, to mydeath; you, by a similar appointment and her screams, to make yourself myslayer. I ought to have known! she belongs to Catherine, to theQueen-mother. Alas, monsieur! easily fooled is he who loves a woman!"

  Then I remembered what De Rilly had told me,--that De Noyard's counselsto the Duke of Guise were an obstacle to Catherine's design ofconciliating that powerful leader, who aspired to the throne on which herson was seated.

  "No, no, monsieur!" I cried, unwilling to admit Mlle. d'Arency capableof such a trick, or myself capable of being so duped. "It cannot bethat; if they had desired your death, they would have hired assassins towaylay you."

  Yet I knew that he was right. The strange request that Mlle. d'Arency hadmade of me in the church was now explained.

  A kind of smile appeared, for a moment, on De Noyard's face, strugglingwith his expression of weakness and pain.

  "Who would go to the expense of hiring assassins," he said, "when honestgentlemen can be tricked into doing the work for nothing? Moreover, whenyou hire assassins, you take the risk of their selling your secret to theenemy. They are apt to leave traces, too, and the secret instigator of adeed may defeat its object by being found out."

  "Then I have to thank God that you are not dead. You will recover,monsieur."

  "I fear not, my son. I do not know how much blood I lose at every word Ispeak. _Parbleu_! you have the art of making a mighty hole with that toyof yours, monsieur!"

  This man, so grave and severe in the usual affairs of life, could take ona tone of pleasantry while enduring pain and facing death.

  "Monsieur," I cried, in great distress, "you must not die. I will saveyou. I shall go for a surgeon. Oh, my God, monsieur, tell me what to doto save your life!"

  "You will find my lackeys, two of them, at the cabaret at the nextcorner. It is closed, but knock hard and call for Jacques. Send him tome, and the other for a surgeon."

  De Noyard was manifestly growing weaker, and he spoke with greatdifficulty. Not daring to trust to any knowledge of my own as toimmediate or temporary treatment of his wound, I made the greatest hasteto follow his directions. I ran out of the chamber, down the stairs, andout to the street, finding the doors neither locked nor barred, andmeeting no human being. Mlle. d'Arency and her companion had silentlydisappeared.

  I went, in my excitement, first to the wrong corner. Then, discovering myblunder, I retraced my steps, and at last secured admittance to the placewhere De Noyard's valets tarried.

  To the man who opened the door, I said, "Are you Jacques, the serving-manof Monsieur de Noyard?"

  "I am nobody's serving man," was the reply, in a tone of indignation; buta second man who had come to the door spoke up, "I am Jacques."

  "Hallo, Monsieur de la Tournoire," came a voice from a group of menseated at a table. "Come and join us, and show my friends how youfellows of the French Guards can drink!"

  It was De Rilly, very merry with wine.

  "I cannot, De Rilly," I replied, stepping into the place. "I have veryimportant business elsewhere." Then I turned to Jacques and said,quietly, "Go, at once, to your master, and send your comrade for asurgeon to follow you there. Do you know the house in which he is?"

  The servant made no answer, but turned pale. "Come!" he said to anotherservant, who had joined him from an obscure corner of the place. The twoimmediately lighted torches and left, from which fact I inferred thatJacques knew where to find his master.

  "What is all this mystery?" cried De Rilly, jovially, rising and comingover to me, while the man who had opened the door, and who was evidentlythe host, closed it and moved away. "Come, warm yourself with a bottle!Why, my friend, you are as white as a ghost, and you look as if you hadbeen perspiring blood!"

  "I must go, at once, De Rilly. It is a serious matter."

  "Then hang me if I don't come, too!" he said, suddenly sobered, and hegrasped his cloak and sword. "That is, unless I should be _de trop_."

  "Come. I thank you," I said; and we left the place together.

  "Whose blood is it?" asked De Rilly, as we hurried along the narrowstreet, back to the house.

  "That of M. de Noyard."

  "What? A duel?"

  "A kind of duel,--a strange mistake!

  "The devil! Won't the Queen-mother give thanks! And won't the Duke ofGuise be angry!"

  "M. de Noyard is not dead yet. His wound may not be fatal."

  I led the way into the house and up the steps to the apartment. It wasnow lighted up by the torch which Jacques had brought. De Noyard wasstill lying in the position in which he had been when I left him. Theservant stood beside him, looking down at his face, and holding the torchso as to light up the features.

  "How do you feel now, monsieur?" I asked, hastening forward.

  There was no answer. The servant raised his eyes to me, and said, in atone of unnatural calmness, "Do you not see that he is dead, M. de laTournoire?"

  Horror-stricken, I knelt beside the body. The heart no longer beat; theface was still,--the eyes stared between unquivering lids, in the lightof the torch.

  "Oh, my God! I have killed him!" I murmured.

  "Come away. You can do nothing here," said De Rilly, quietly. He caughtme by the shoulder, and led me out of the room.

  "Let us leave this neighborhood as soon as possible," he said, as wedescended the stairs. "It is most unfortunate that the valet knows yourname. He heard me speak it at the tavern, and he will certainly recallalso that I hailed you as one of the French Guards."

  "Why is that unfortunate?" I asked, still deprived of thought by thehorror of having killed so honorable a gentleman, who had not harmed me.

  "Because he can let the Duke of Guise know exactly on whom to seekvengeance for the death of De Noyard."

  "The Duke of Guise will seek vengeance?" I asked, mechanically, as weemerged from that fatal house, and
turned our backs upon it.

  "Assuredly. He will demand your immediate punishment. You must bespeakthe King's pardon as soon as possible. That is necessary, to protectoneself, when one has killed one's antagonist in a duel. The edicts stillforbid duels, and one may be made to pay for a victory with one's life,if the victim's friends demand the enforcement of the law,--as in thiscase the Duke of Guise surely will demand."

  "M. de Quelus can, doubtless, get me the King's pardon," I said, turningmy mind from the past to the future, from regret to apprehension. Thenecessity of considering my situation prevented me from contemplating, atthat time, the perfidy of Mlle. d'Arency, the blindness with which I hadlet myself be deceived, or the tragic and humiliating termination of mygreat love affair.

  "If M. de Quelus is with you, you are safe from the authorities. You willthen have only to guard against assassination at the hands of Guise'sfollowers."

  "I shall go to M. de Quelus early in the morning," I said.

  "By all means. And you will not go near your lodgings until you haveassured your safety against arrest. You must reach the King before theDuke can see him; for the Duke will not fail to hint that, in killing DeNoyard, you were the instrument of the King or of the Queen-mother. Todisprove that, the King would have to promise the Duke to give you overto the authorities. And now that I think of it, you must make yourselfsafe before the Queen-mother learns of this affair, for she will advisethe King to act in such a way that the Duke cannot accuse him ofprotecting you. My friend, it suddenly occurs to me that you have gotinto a rather deep hole!"

  "De Rilly," I asked, with great concern, "do you think that I was theinstrument of Catherine de Medici in this?"

  "Certainly not!" was the emphatic answer. "The fight was about a woman,was it not?"

  "A woman was the cause of it," I answered, with a heavy sigh. "But how doyou know?"

  "To tell the truth," he said, "many people have been amused to seeyou make soft eyes at a certain lady, and to see De Noyard dolikewise. Neither young men like you, nor older men like him, canconceal these things."

  Thus I saw that even De Rilly did not suspect the real truth, and thisshowed me how deep was the design of which I had been the tool. Everybodywould lay the quarrel to rivalry in love. The presence of so manifest acause would prevent people from hitting on the truth. Mlle. d'Arency hadtrusted to my youth, agility, and supposed skill to give me the victoryin that fight in the dark; and then to circumstances to disclose who haddone the deed. "It was De Noyard's jealous rival," everybody would say.Having found a sufficient motive, no one would take the trouble to seekthe real source,--to trace the affair to the instigation of Catherine deMedici. The alert mind of De Rilly, it is true, divining the equally keenmind of the Duke of Guise, had predicted that Guise might pretend abelief in such instigation, and so force the King to avenge De Noyard,in self-vindication. Mlle. d'Arency well knew that I would notincriminate a woman, even a perfidious one, and counted also on mynatural unwillingness to reveal myself as the dupe that I had been.Moreover, it would not be possible for me to tell the truth in such a waythat it would appear probable. And what would I gain by telling thetruth? The fact would remain that I was the slayer of De Noyard, and, byaccusing the instigators, I would but compel them to demonstratenon-complicity; which they could do only by clamoring for my punishment.And how could I prove that things were not exactly as they hadappeared,--that the woman's screams were not genuine: that she was notactually threatened by De Noyard? Clearly as I saw the truth, clearly asDe Noyard had seen it in his last moments, it could never be establishedby evidence.

  With bitter self-condemnation, and profound rancor against the womanwhose tool I had been, I realized what an excellent instrument she hadfound for her purpose of ridding her mistress of an obstacle.

  It was not certain that the King, himself, had been privy to his mother'sdesign of causing De Noyard's death. In such matters she often actedwithout consulting him. Therefore, when De Quelus should present my caseto him as merely that of a duel over a love affair, Henri would perhapsgive me his assurances of safety, at once, and would hold himself boundin honor to stand by them. All depended on securing these beforeCatherine or the Duke of Guise should have an opportunity to influencehim to another course.

  I felt, as I walked along with De Rilly, that, if I should obtainimmunity from the punishment prescribed by edict, I could rely onmyself for protection against any private revenge that the Duke ofGuise might plan.

  De Rilly took me to a lodging in the Rue de L'Autruche, not far from myown, which was in the Rue St. Honore. Letting myself be commandedentirely by him, I went to bed, but not to sleep. I was anxious formorning to come, that I might be off to the Louvre. I lay speculating onthe chances of my seeing De Quelus, and of his undertaking to obtain theKing's protection for me. Though appalled at what I had done, I had nowish to die,--the youth in me cried for life; and the more I desiredlife, the more fearful I became of failing to get De Quelus'sintercession.

  I grew many years older in that night. In a single flash, I had beheldthings hitherto unknown to me: the perfidy of which a woman was capable,the falseness of that self-confidence and vanity which may delude a maninto thinking himself the conqueror of a woman's heart, the danger ofgoing, carelessly, on in a suspicious matter without looking forward topossible consequences. I saw the folly of thoughtlessness, of blindself-confidence, of reckless trust in the honesty of others and the luckof oneself. I had learned the necessity of caution, of foresight, ofsuspicion; and perhaps I should have to pay for the lesson with my life.

  Turning on the bed, watching the window for the dawn, giving in my mind ahundred different forms to the account with which I should make De Quelusacquainted with the matter, I passed the most of that night. At last, Ifell asleep, and dreamt that I had told De Quelus my story, and he hadbrought me the King's pardon; again, that I was engaged in futile effortsto approach him; again, that De Noyard had come to life. When De Rillyawoke me, it was broad daylight.

  I dressed, and so timed my movements as to reach the Louvre at the hourwhen De Quelus would be about to officiate at the King's rising. De Rillyleft me at the gate, wishing me good fortune. He had to go to oversee thelabors of some grooms in the King's stables. One of the guards of thegate sent De Quelus my message. I stood, in great suspense, awaiting theanswer, fearing at every moment to see the Duke of Guise ride into thePlace du Louvre on his way to crave an interview with the King.

  At last a page came across the court with orders that I be admitted, andI was soon waiting in a gallery outside the apartments of thechamberlains. After a time that seemed very long, De Quelus came out tome, with a look of inquiry on his face.

  Ignoring the speech I had prepared for the occasion, I broke abruptlyinto the matter.

  "M. de Quelus," I said, "last night, in a sudden quarrel which arose outof a mistake, I was so unfortunate as to kill M. de Noyard. It wasneither a duel nor a murder,--each of us seemed justified in attackingthe other."

  De Quelus did not seem displeased to hear of De Noyard's death.

  "What evidence is there against you?" he asked.

  "That of M. de Noyard's servant, to whom I acknowledged that I had killedhis master. Other evidence may come up. What I have come to beg is yourintercession with the King--"

  "I understand," he said, without much interest. "I shall bring up thematter before the King leaves his bed."

  "When may I expect to know?" I asked, not knowing whether to be reassuredor alarmed at his indifference.

  "Wait outside the King's apartments. I am going there now," he replied.

  I followed him, saw him pass into the King's suite, and had anotherseason of waiting. This was the longest and the most trying. I stood, nowtapping the floor with my foot, now watching the halberdiers at thecurtained door, while they glanced indifferently at me. Various officersof the court, whose duty or privilege it was to attend the King's rising,passed in, none heeding me or guessing that I waited there for the wordon which my life depended
. I examined the tapestry over and over again,noticing, particularly, the redoubtable expression of a horseman withlance in rest, and wondering how he had ever emerged from the towerbehind him, of which the gateway was half his size.

  A page came out of the doorway through which De Quelus had disappeared.Did he bring word to me? No. He glanced at me casually, and passed on,leaving the gallery at the other end. Presently he returned, precedingMarguerite, the Queen of Navarre, whom he had gone to summon.

  "More trouble in the royal family," I said to myself. The King musthave scented another plot, to have summoned his sister before the timefor the _petite levee_. I feared that this would hinder hisconsideration of my case.

  Suddenly a tall figure, wearing a doublet of cloth of silver, gray velvetbreeches, gray mantle, and gray silk stockings, strode rapidly throughthe gallery, and curtly commanded the usher to announce him. Whileawaiting the usher's return, he stood still, stroking now his lightmustaches, and now his fine, curly blonde beard, which was little morethan delicate down on his chin. As his glance roved over the gallery itfell for a moment on me, but he did not know me, and his splendid blueeyes turned quickly away. His face had a pride, a nobility, a subtletythat I never saw united in another. He was four inches more than six feethigh, slender, and of perfect proportion, erect, commanding, and in theflower of youth. How I admired him, though my heart sank at the sight ofhim; for I knew he had come to demand my death! It was the Duke of Guise.Presently the curtains parted, he passed in, and they fell behind him.

  And now my heart beat like a hammer on an anvil. Had De Quelusforgotten me?

  Again the curtains parted. Marguerite came out, but this time entirelyalone. As soon as she had passed the halberdiers, her eyes fell on me,but she gave no sign of recognition. When she came near me, she said,in a low tone, audible to me alone, and without seeming to be aware ofmy presence:

  "Follow me. Make no sign,--your life depends on it!"

  She passed on, and turned out of the gallery towards her own apartments.For a moment I stood motionless; then, with a kind of instinctive senseof what ought to be done, for all thought seemed paralyzed within me, Imade as if to return to the chamberlains' apartments, from which I hadcome. Reaching the place where Marguerite's corridor turned off, Ipretended for an instant to be at a loss which way to go; then I turnedin the direction taken by Marguerite. If the halberdiers, at the entranceto the King's apartments, saw me do this, they could but think I had madea mistake, and it was not their duty to come after me. Should I seek tointrude whither I had no right of entrance, I should encounter guards tohinder me.

  Marguerite had waited for me in the corridor, out of sight of thehalberdiers.

  "Quickly, monsieur!" she said, and glided rapidly on. She led me boldlyto her own apartments and through two or three chambers, passing, on theway, guards, pages, and ladies in waiting, before whom I had the wit toassume the mien of one who was about to do some service for her, and hadcome to receive instructions. So my entrance seemed to pass as nothingremarkable. At last we entered a cabinet, where I was alone with her. Sheopened the door of a small closet.

  "Monsieur," she said, "conceal yourself in this closet until I return. Iam going to be present at the _petite levee_ of the King. Do not stir,for they will soon be searching the palace, with orders for your arrest.Had you not come after me, at once, two of the Scotch Guards would havefound you where you waited. I slipped out while they were listening tothe orders that my mother added to the King's."

  I fell on my knee, within the closet.

  "Madame," I said, trembling with gratitude, "you are more than a queen.You are an angel of goodness."

  "No; I am merely a woman who does not forget an obligation. I have heard,from one of my maids, who heard it from a friend of yours, how youknocked a too inquisitive person into the moat beneath my window. I hadto burn the rope that was used that night, but I have since procuredanother, which may have to be put to a similar purpose!"

  And, with a smile, she shut the closet door upon me.