When Lagardere was left alone he placed himself at the table where
Gonzague had been sitting so short a time before, and, taking pen and
paper, wrote rapidly a short letter. When he had folded and sealed this,
he rose, and, crossing the room, went to the door which opened on the
antechamber to the princess's apartments. Here he found a servant
waiting, wearing the mourning livery of Nevers, to whom he gave the
letter, telling him that it was urgent, and that it should be delivered
to the princess at once. When he had done this he returned to the great
room and walked slowly up and down it, surveying in turn each of the
three pictures of the three friends who had been called the Three Louis.
He paused for a moment before the picture of Louis de Nevers. "Louis de
Nevers," he said, softly, "you shall be avenged to-night."
He moved a little away, and paused again before the portrait of the king.
"Louis of France," he said, "you shall be convinced to-night."
A third time he resumed his walk, and a third time he paused, this time
before the portrait of the Prince de Gonzague. Here he stood a little
while longer in silence, studying curiously the striking lineaments of
his enemy, that enemy who, through all the change of years, had retained
the grace and beauty represented on the canvas. "Louis de Gonzague," he
murmured, "you shall be judged to-night."
Then he resumed his steady pacing up and down the room, with his hands
clasped lightly behind his humped shoulders, busy in thought. For,
indeed, he had much to think of, much to plan, much to execute, and but
little time in which to do what he had to do. Fortune had greatly favored
him so far. The friends he had summoned had come at his call. One more of
his enemies had been swept from his path, and by the destruction of that
enemy he had been able, thanks to his old training as a play-actor, to
enter unsuspected into the household and the councils of the man who most
hated him, of the man whom he most hated. But, though much was done,
there was yet much to do, and it needed all his fortitude, all his
courage, and all his humor to face without hesitation or alarm the
problems that faced him.
His reflections were interrupted by the opening of a door, and, turning
rapidly, he found himself in the presence of a woman clad entirely in
black, whom he knew at once, in spite of the ravages that time and an
unchanging grief had wrought upon her beauty, to be the Princess de
Gonzague, the widow of Nevers. The princess was accompanied by a
lady-in-waiting, a woman older than herself, and, like herself, clad
wholly in black, on whose arm she leaned for support. Lagardere bowed
respectfully to the woman he had last seen so many years before in the
short and terrible interview in the moat at Caylus.
"You requested to see me," the princess said, gravely and sternly.
"I requested permission to wait upon you," Lagardere answered,
deferentially.
"You are," the princess continued, "I presume, in the service of the
Prince de Gonzague?"
Lagardere bowed in silence.
"It is not my custom," the princess said, "to receive messengers from his
highness, but it is my custom daily to visit these rooms for a few
moments at this time to look at one of the pictures they contain, and at
this time his highness leaves the room at my disposal. From the
earnestness of your letter, I have, therefore, consented to see you here
in the course of this, my daily pilgrimage. What have you got to say to
me?"
"Your highness," said Lagardere, "I am, as you imagine, in the service of
his highness the Prince de Gonzague, but I have been out of France for
many years, and know little or nothing of the events which have taken
place in my absence. I understand, however, that there is to be a family
council held in the palace to-day, and that it is my master's earnest
wish that you should be present at that council."
The princess drew herself up and surveyed the hunchback coldly. "There
is no need," she said, "for any such council nor any need for my
presence. I have told your master so already, and do not see why I should
be importuned to repeat my words."
Lagardere bowed again, and made as if to retire. Then, as if suddenly
recollecting something, he drew from his breast a small, sealed package.
"As I was coming to the Hôtel de Gonzague this morning," he said, "a man
whom I do not know stopped me in the street and gave me this package,
with the request that I should deliver it to your highness. I explained
to the man that I was in the service of his highness the Prince de
Gonzague, and had not the honor of being included among your highness's
servants. But the man still pressed me to take charge of this packet,
asking me to deliver it to the care of one of your highness's women, and
I should have done so but that I thought upon reflection it might be
better, if possible, to deliver it into your own hands."
As he spoke he extended the package, which the princess received in
silence and scrutinized carefully. It was addressed to her in a
handwriting that was wholly unfamiliar, and carefully sealed with seals
in black wax, that bore the impression of the word "Adsum." The princess
looked keenly at the hunchback, who stood quietly before her with bent
head in an attitude of respectful attention.
"Do you know anything further respecting this package?" the princess
asked.
Lagardere shook his head. "I have told your highness," he said, "all I
know of the matter. I never saw the man who gave it to me. I do not think
I should know him again."
The princess again examined the packet closely, and then, advancing to
the table, seated herself for a moment and broke the seals. The contents
of the packet seemed to startle her, for she suddenly turned to her
waiting-woman and beckoned her to her side. Then, with a gesture, she
motioned to Lagardere to stand farther apart. Lagardere withdrew to the
remotest corner of the apartment, and seemed lost in contemplation of the
portrait of Louis de Gonzague.
The princess spoke to her companion in low, hurried tones. "Brigitte,"
she said, "here is something strange." And she showed her a little book
which she had taken from the packet. "This is the prayer-book which I
gave to my husband at Caylus seventeen years ago, and see what is written
in it." And she pointed to some words which were written on the blank
page inside the cover in the same handwriting as that in which the packet
was addressed. These words the princess read over to her companion:
"'God will have pity if you have faith. Your child lives and shall be
restored to you to-day. Distrust Gonzague more than ever. Remember the
motto of Louis de Nevers. During the council sit near his picture, and at
the right time, for you and for you alone, the dead shall speak.'" These
words were signed, "Henri de Lagardere."
The princess turned and beckoned to the hunch-back, who immediately
approached her. "You are my husband's servant," she said. "Are you much
in his confidence?"
"Madame," Lagardere replied, "I am too new to Paris to consider myself in
any sense the confidential servant of his highness, but I can assure you
that I hope to serve him as he deserves to be served."
The princess seemed thoughtful, then she asked again: "Did you ever hear
of a man named Henri de Lagardere?"
The hunchback appeared agitated. "Madame," he replied, "Henri de
Lagardere is the enemy of my master, and he is my enemy. I have been
seeking him unsuccessfully for many years, both in my master's interests
and in my own."
The princess rose. "Enough, sir," she said. "I will consider his
highness's wishes. Come, Brigitte."
Holding the packet in her hand and leaning on her companion's arm, she
went towards the picture of Louis de Nevers and knelt for a moment in
prayer. Then she rose and silently quitted the room, still leaning on
Brigitte's arm.