THE ARMORER'S HOUSE
Pierre Peuquoy's house was located at the corner of the Rue du Martroi
and the market-place. On both sides it stood upon broad wooden pillars,
such as are still to be seen in the Central Market at Paris. It had two
stories, besides one in the roof. On its front wood and brick and stone
were arranged in curious arabesques which were symmetrical, though they
seemed to have been formed at hazard. In addition the supports of the
windows and the great beams showed extraordinary figures of animals
twisted into all sorts of amusing shapes. The whole was homely and
unpretentious, but not devoid of invention and taste. The broad, high
roof projected sufficiently to afford a covering for an outside gallery
with a railing, which extended around the whole second floor as in Swiss
châlets.
Above the glass door of the shop hung the sign, a sort of wooden banner,
so to speak, upon which was a warrior, painted in all the panoply of
war, to represent the God Mars, in which undertaking he was assisted no
doubt by the following inscription: "Au Dieu Mars. Pierre Peuquoy,
Armurier."
On the doorstep stood a complete suit of armor, helmet, breastplate,
armlets, and leggings, which served as a realistic sign to such
customers as were unable to read.
Moreover, through the leaded panes of the shop-front, other outfits and
arms of all sorts, offensive and defensive, could be distinguished,
notwithstanding the darkness of the interior. The display of swords,
above all, was remarkable for the number and variety and magnificence of
the specimens.
Two apprentices, seated under the pillars, were hailing the passers-by,
and making most enticing offers of their wares.
Pierre Peuquoy himself was commonly to be found in all his majesty
either in his back shop, which looked out on the courtyard, or at his
forge, which was set up in a shed at the end of the courtyard. He only
appeared when some customer of importance, attracted by the cries of the
apprentices, or it may be by Peuquoy's reputation, asked to see the
master.
The back shop, which was better lighted than the one in front, served as
parlor and dining-room in one. It was wainscoted in oak throughout, and
had for furniture a square table with twisted feet, chairs covered with
tapestry, and a superb chest of drawers on which was Pierre Peuquoy's
chef d'œuvre, executed by himself under his father's eye, when he had
served his apprenticeship; it was a beautiful miniature suit of armor,
all inlaid with gold, and of the finest and most delicate workmanship.
No one could imagine the amount of skill and patience necessary to
perfect such a work of art.
Opposite the chest, in a niche in the wainscot, stood a plaster image of
the Virgin with a consecrated box. Thus the thought of God was always on
guard in the family's living-room.
Another room at right angles to this was almost wholly occupied by a
straight wooden stairway which led to the floors above.
Pierre Peuquoy, delighted beyond measure to receive Vicomte d'Exmès and
Jean beneath his roof, had actually given up the whole first floor to
Gabriel and his cousin; so that there were the guest-chambers. He
himself occupied the second floor with his young sister Babette and his
children. The wounded squire, Arnauld du Thill, was also accommodated on
the second floor; while the apprentices lodged in the attic. In all the
rooms, which were convenient and snug, there was an air, if not of
wealth, at least of comfort and modest abundance suited to the
old-fashioned citizen of every age.
It is at table that we renew our acquaintance with Gabriel and Jean
Peuquoy, just as their worthy host has finished doing the honors of a
bountiful supper. Babette was waiting upon the guests; and the children
were seated at a respectful distance from their elders.
"Great Heaven, Monseigneur," said the armorer, "how little you eat, if
you will allow me to say so! You are all anxiety, and Jean is lost in
thought; but if the repast is but modest, the heart that offers it is in
the right place. At least, have a few of these grapes, for they are very
scarce in our country. I learned from my grand-father, who had it from
his, that in old days, when the French were masters here, the vineyards
of Calais yielded bountifully, and the grapes were golden; but alas!
since the town has been English, the grape deceives itself by fancying
that it is in England, where it isn't accustomed to grow ripe."
Gabriel could but smile at the strange reasoning in which brave Pierre's
patriotism found vent.
"Come," said he, raising his glass, "I drink to the ripening of the
grapes of Calais!"
We may readily believe that the Peuquoys responded warmly to such a
toast! Supper at an end, Pierre offered thanks while his guests
listened, standing bareheaded. Then the children were sent to bed.
"Now you may retire, Babette," said the armorer to his sister. "See that
the apprentices don't make too much noise; and before you go to your
room, go with Gertrude and inquire if Monsieur le Vicomte's squire is in
need of aught."
Pretty Babette blushed, and left the room with a courtesy.
"Now, my dear friend and cousin," said Pierre to Jean, "here we are
alone, we three; and if you have any private communication to make to
me, I am ready to hear it."
Gabriel looked at Jean in amazement, but he replied with his most
serious expression,--
"I did tell you, Pierre, that I had some matters of importance to talk
over with you."
"I will withdraw," said Gabriel.
"Pardon me, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Jean, "your presence at our
interview is not only useful, but necessary; for without your
concurrence the projects which I am about to confide to Pierre will have
no chance of success."
"I will listen to you in that case, my friend," said Gabriel, relapsing
into his dreamy melancholy.
"Yes, Monseigneur," said the bourgeois, "yes, listen to us; and as you
listen, you will raise your head once more with hope, and perhaps (who
knows?) with joy."
Gabriel smiled mournfully at the thought that joy would be an unknown
friend to him while he remained powerless to do aught to obtain his
father's liberty or to make clear his right to Diane's love.
Nevertheless, the brave youth turned toward Jean, and motioned to him to
proceed.
Then Jean looked gravely at Pierre.
"Cousin," said he, "and more than cousin,--brother,--it is for you to
speak first, in order to show Monsieur d'Exmès what reliance may be
placed upon your patriotism. So tell us, Pierre, in what sentiments
toward France your father brought you up, and was himself reared by his
father. Tell us whether you have ever become English at heart, even
though you have been English by force of events for above two hundred
years. Tell us, last of all, whether if the emergency should arise, you
would consider that you owed your blood and your assistance to the old
country of your ancestors, or to the new allegiance which has been
forced upon you."
"Jean," replied the other bourgeois, with as solemn a mien as his
cousin, "I do not know what I should think or how I should feel if I
bore an English name, and came of English stock; but I do know by
experience that when a family has once been French, whether for a moment
only or for more than two centuries, every other domination becomes
insupportable to the members of that family, and seems to them as hard
and bitter as slavery or banishment; furthermore, that one of my
forefathers, Jean, who saw Calais fall into English hands, never spoke
of France before his son without weeping, or of England without bitter
hate. His son did the same with his own son; and this twofold sentiment
of regret and detestation has been handed down from generation to
generation without losing any of its strength or changing its form. The
air of our old bourgeois houses is a great preservative. The Pierre
Peuquoy of two centuries ago lives again in the Pierre Peuquoy of
to-day; and with the same French name, I have the same French heart,
Jean. The insult as well as the grief is as of yesterday. Say not that I
have two countries, Jean; there is, and there can ever be, but one! And
if the time comes when I must choose between the country to which men
have made me submit and the country which God has given me, be sure that
I shall not hesitate."
"You hear, Monseigneur!" cried Jean, turning to Vicomte d'Exmès.
"Yes, my friend, yes, I hear; and it is grand, it is noble!" was
Gabriel's reply, albeit he seemed still a little distraught.
"One word, Pierre," said Jean; "unfortunately all our fellow-countrymen
here do not think with you, do they? No doubt you are the only child of
France to be found in Calais at the end of two hundred years, who has
not turned his back upon his mother-country."
"You are wrong, Jean," replied the armorer; "I spoke in general, and not
for myself alone. I do not say that every one who bears a French name,
as I do, has not forgotten his origin; but many bourgeois families never
have ceased to love France, and deeply regret their separation from her;
and it is among these families that the Peuquoys like to select their
wives. In the civic guard, of which I am a member against my will, there
is many a citizen who would break his halberd in twain rather than turn
it against a French soldier."
"That's a very good thing to know," muttered Jean Peuquoy, rubbing his
hands; "and you must hold some rank in this same civic guard? So well
thought of and respected as you are, that goes without saying."
"No, Jean; I have persistently refused all rank, so as to avoid all
responsibility."
"So much the worse, and yet so much the better! Is the duty you have to
perform a hard one, Pierre? And does your turn come often?"
"Well, yes," said Pierre, "the service is both frequent and hard,
because in a place like Calais, the garrison is never large enough. My
turn comes the 5th of every month."
"The 5th of every month regularly, Pierre? It seems to me that the
English are not prudent to fix every man's day of service in advance."
"Oh," said the armorer, shaking his head, "there is not much danger
after holding the place for two centuries. Besides, they can't help
being a little suspicious at all times of the civic guard, and take care
to station them only at points which are naturally impregnable; for
instance, I always do sentry duty on the platform of the Octagonal
Tower, which is much more efficiently protected by the sea than by me,
and where none but sea-gulls can approach, I think."
"Aha! so you are always on sentry duty on the platform of the
Octagonal Tower on the 5th of the month, Pierre?"
"Yes; from four to six in the morning. I was allowed to select my own
time, and I prefer that because during three fourths of the year I can
see the sun rise out of the ocean at that hour; and that is a divine
spectacle even for a poor trader like myself."
"A spectacle so divine, in fact, Pierre," said Jean Peuquoy, lowering
his voice, "that if, despite the strength of the position, some bold
adventurer should try to scale the side of your Octagonal Tower, you
would not see him, I'll wager, so deeply absorbed would you be in
contemplating it."
Pierre looked wonderingly at his cousin.
"I should not see him, to be sure," he replied after a moment's
hesitation, "for I should know that no one but a Frenchman could have
any interest in getting into the city; and since I am under constraint,
I have no duty toward those who constrain me,--in tact, rather than
repulse the assailant, I might perhaps assist him to get in."
"Well said, Pierre!" cried Jean. "You see, Monseigneur, that Pierre is a
devoted Frenchman," he added, addressing Gabriel.
"Yes, indeed I do, Master," replied the latter, still paying little heed
in spite of himself to an interview which seemed to him of no use. "I
see that he is; but alas! what is the good of his devotion?"
"What good? I am going to tell you," was Jean's response; "for I think
it is my turn now to speak. Well, then, Monsieur le Vicomte, if you
choose, we can take our revenge for St. Quentin here at Calais. The
English, relying upon their two centuries of possession, are slumbering
in false security; this sleepy confidence will be their ruin.
Monseigneur can see that we have auxiliaries within the town always
ready. Let us carefully mature plans; let your intervention with the
powers that he come to our aid, and my reason, even more surely than my
instinct, tells me that a bold stroke will make us masters of the town.
You understand me, do you not, Monseigneur?"
"Yes, yes, to be sure!" Gabriel replied, having actually heard nothing,
but being aroused by this direct appeal from his revery. "Yes, your
cousin wishes to return, does he not, to our fair kingdom of France,--to
be transferred to some French town, Amiens, for instance? Very well; I
will speak to my Lord Wentworth about it, and to Monsieur de Guise as
well. The thing may easily be arranged; and my assistance, which you
request, shall not fail you. Go on, my friend; I am quite at your
service. Certainly I am listening."
And again he relapsed into his omnipotent distraction. For the voice he
was listening to at that moment was not, in truth, Jean Peuquoy's; no,
it was the voice of King Henri in his own heart, giving the order, upon
hearing the admiral's account of the siege of St. Quentin, to release
the Comte de Montgommery on the spot. Again, it was the voice of his
father, proving to him (for he was still gloomy and jealous) that Diane
was indeed the daughter of his becrowned rival. Finally, it was the
voice of Diane herself, which, after so many bitter trials, was able to
say to him, and which he could hear give forth those divine words of
sweetest meaning, "Truly I love you!"
It is easy to understand that while dreaming such delightful dreams as
these, he could hardly listen to the daring and confident schemes of the
worthy Jean.
The solemn burgher appeared somewhat hurt that Gabriel had vouchsafed so
little attention to a scheme which certainly did not lack grandeur and
courage, and it was with some chagrin that he rejoined.
"If Monseigneur had condescended to lend a somewhat less preoccupied ear
to what I was saying, he would have noticed that our ideas, Pierre's and
mine, were not so personal and less contemptible than he seems to think
them."
Gabriel made no response.
"He does not hear us, Jean," said Pierre Peuquoy, calling his cousin's
attention to the fresh absorption of his guest. "Perhaps he has some
plan, some personal passion of his own."
"At all events, his cannot be less selfish than ours," retorted Jean, in
a tone not free from bitterness. "I should even say that this gentleman
was indeed selfish had I not seen him defying danger with a sort of
fury, and actually exposing his life too, to save mine; still, he ought
to have listened when I was earnestly looking for the glory and welfare
of our common country. Without him, however, with all our zealous ardor,
we shall be only helpless tools, Pierre. So far we possess the right
feeling! We lack brain and power."
"Never mind! the sentiment is a good one, for I heard it and understood
it, brother," said the armorer.
And the two cousins solemnly grasped each other's hands.
"Meanwhile, we must give up our idea, or at least postpone trying to
carry it out," said Jean; "for what can the arm do without the head, or
the people without the nobility?"
And then this burgher of the olden time added with a meaning smile,--
"Until the day when the people shall be the arm and the head at once!"
END OF VOL. I.