The moment the equerry’s foot touched the uppermost stair I advanced
upon him. ‘Where is your mistress, man?’ I said. ‘Where is Mademoiselle
de la Vire? Be quick, tell me what you have done with her.’
His face fell amazingly. ‘Where is she?’ he answered, faltering between
surprise and alarm at my sudden onslaught. ‘Here, she should be. I left
her here not an hour ago. Mon Dieu! Is she not here now?’
His alarm increased mine tenfold. ‘No!’ I retorted, ‘she is not! She is
gone! And you--what business had you, in the fiend’s name, to leave her
here, alone and unprotected? Tell me that!’
He leaned against the balustrade, making no attempt to defend himself,
and seemed, in his sudden terror, anything but the bold, alert fellow
who had ascended the stairs two minutes before. ‘I was a fool,’ he
groaned. ‘I saw your man Simon here; and Fanchette, who is as good as a
man, was with her mistress. And I went to stable the horses. I thought
no evil. And now--My God!’ he added, suddenly straightening himself,
while his face grew hard and grim, ‘I am undone! My master will never
forgive me!’
‘Did you come straight here?’ I said, considering that, after all, he
was no more in fault than I had been on a former occasion.
‘We went first to M. de Rosny’s lodging,’ he answered, ‘where we found
your message telling us to come here. We came on without dismounting.’
‘Mademoiselle may have gone back, and be there,’ I said. ‘It is
possible. Do you stay here and keep a good look-out, and I will go and
see. Let one of your men come with me.’
He uttered a brief assent; being a man as ready to take as to give
orders, and thankful now for any suggestion which held out a hope of
mademoiselle’s safety. Followed by the servant he selected, I ran down
the stairs, and in a moment was hurrying along the Rue St. Denys. The
day was waning. The narrow streets and alleys were already dark, but the
air of excitement which I had noticed in the morning still marked the
townsfolk, of whom a great number were strolling abroad, or standing
in doorways talking to their gossips. Feverishly anxious as I was, I
remarked the gloom which dwelt on all faces; but as I set it down to
the king’s approaching departure, and besides was intent on seeing that
those we sought did not by any chance pass us in the crowd, I thought
little of it. Five minutes’ walking brought us to M. de Rosny’s lodging.
There I knocked at the door; impatiently, I confess, and with little
hope of success. But, to my surprise, barely an instant elapsed before
the door opened, and I saw before me Simon Fleix!
Discovering who it was, he cowered back, with a terrified face, and
retreated to the wall with his arm raised.
‘You scoundrel!’ I exclaimed, restraining myself with difficulty. ‘Tell
me this moment where Mademoiselle de la Vire is! Or, by Heaven, I shall
forget what my mother owed to you, and do you a mischief!’
For an instant he glared at me viciously, with all his teeth exposed, as
though he meant to refuse--and more. Then he thought better of it, and,
raising his hand, pointed sulkily upwards.
‘Go before me and knock at the door,’ I said, tapping the hilt of my
dagger with meaning.
Cowed by my manner, he obeyed, and led the way to the room in which M.
de Rambouillet had surprised us on a former occasion. Here he stopped
at the door and knocked gently; on which a sharp voice inside bade us
enter. I raised the latch and did so, closing the door behind me.
Mademoiselle, still wearing her riding-coat, sat in a chair before the
hearth, on which a newly kindled fire sputtered and smoked. She had her
back to me, and did not turn on my entrance, but continued to toy in
an absent manner with the strings of the mask which lay in her lap.
Fanchette stood bolt upright behind her, with her elbows squared and
her hands clasped; in such an attitude that I guessed the maid had
been expressing her strong dissatisfaction with this latest whim of her
mistress, and particularly with mademoiselle’s imprudence in wantonly
exposing herself, with so inadequate a guard as Simon, in a place where
she had already suffered so much. I was confirmed in this notion on
seeing the woman’s harsh countenance clear at sight of me; though the
churlish nod, which was all the greeting she bestowed on me, seemed to
betoken anything but favour or good-will. She touched her mistress on
the shoulder, however, and said, ‘M. de Marsac is here.’
Mademoiselle turned her head and looked at me languidly, without
stirring in her chair or removing the foot she, was warming. ‘Good
evening,’ she said.
The greeting seemed so brief and so commonplace, ignoring, as it did,
both the pains and anxiety to which she had just put me and the great
purpose for which we were here--to say nothing of that ambiguous parting
which she must surely remember as well as I--that the words I had
prepared died on my lips, and I looked at her in honest confusion. All
her small face was pale except her lips. Her brow was dark, her eyes
were hard as well as weary. And not words only failed me as I looked at
her, but anger; having mounted the stairs hot foot to chide, I felt on a
sudden--despite my new cloak and scabbard, my appointment, and the same
I had made at Court--the same consciousness of age; and shabbiness and
poverty which had possessed me in her presence from the beginning. I
muttered, ‘Good evening, mademoiselle,’ and that was all I could say--I
who had frightened the burly Maignan a few minutes before!
Seeing, I have no doubt, the effect she produced on me, she maintained
for some time an embarrassing silence. At length she said, frigidly,
‘Perhaps M. de Marsac will sit, Fanchette. Place a chair for him. I
am afraid, however, that after his successes at Court he may find our
reception somewhat cold. But we are only from the country,’ she added,
looking at me askance, with a gleam of anger in her eyes.
I thanked her huskily, saying that I would not sit, as I could not stay.
‘Simon Fleix,’ I continued, finding my voice with difficulty, ‘has, I am
afraid, caused you some trouble by bringing you to this house instead of
telling you that I had made preparation for you at my lodgings.’
‘It was not Simon Fleix’s fault,’ she replied curtly. ‘I prefer these
rooms. They are more convenient.’
‘They are, perhaps, more convenient,’ I rejoined humbly, ‘But I have
to think of safety, mademoiselle, as you know. At my house I have a
competent guard, and can answer for your being unmolested.’
‘You can send your guard here,’ she said with a royal air.
‘But, mademoiselle--’
‘Is it not enough that I have said that I prefer these rooms?’ she
replied sharply, dropping her mask on her lap and looking round at me in
undisguised displeasure. ‘Are you deaf, sir? Let me tell you, I am in
no mood for argument. I am tired with riding. I prefer these rooms, and
that is enough!’
Nothing could exceed the determination with which she said these words,
unless it were the malicious pleasure in thwarting my wishes which made
itself seen through the veil of assumed indifference. I felt myself
brought up with a vengeance, and in a manner the most provoking that
could be conceived. But opposition so childish, so utterly wanton,
by exciting my indignation, had presently the effect of banishing the
peculiar bashfulness I felt in her presence, and recalling me to my
duty.
‘Mademoiselle,’ I said firmly, looking at her with a fixed countenance,
‘pardon me if I speak plainly. This is no time for playing with straws.
The men from whom you escaped once are as determined and more desperate
now. By this time they probably know of your arrival. Do, then, as I
ask, I pray and beseech you. Or this time I may lack the power, though
never the will, to save you.’
Wholly ignoring my appeal, she looked into my face--for by this time I
had advanced to her side--with a whimsical smile. ‘You are really much
improved in manner since I last saw you,’ she said.
‘Mademoiselle!’ I replied, baffled and repelled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What I say,’ she answered, flippantly. ‘But it was to be expected.’
‘For shame!’ I cried, provoked almost beyond bearing by her ill-timed
raillery, ‘will you never be serious until you have ruined us and
yourself? I tell you this house is not safe for you! It is not safe for
me! I cannot bring my men to it, for there is not room for them. If you
have any spark of consideration, of gratitude, therefore--’
‘Gratitude!’ she exclaimed, swinging her mask slowly to and fro by a
ribbon, while she looked up at me as though my excitement amused her.
‘Gratitude--‘tis a very pretty phrase, and means much; but it is for
those who serve us faithfully, M. de Marsac, and not for others. You
receive so many favours, I am told, and are so successful at Court, that
I should not be justified in monopolising your services.’
‘But, mademoiselle--’ I said in a low tone. And there I stopped. I dared
not proceed.
‘Well, sir,’ she answered, looking up at she after a moment’s silence,
and ceasing on a sudden to play with her toy, ‘what is it?’
‘You spoke of favours,’ I continued, with an effort. ‘I never received
but one from a lady. That was at Rosny, and from your hand.’
‘From my hand?’ she answered, with an air of cold surprise.
‘It was so, mademoiselle.’
‘You have fallen into some strange mistake, sir,’ she replied, rousing
herself, and looking at me indifferently ‘I never gave you a favour.’
I bowed low. ‘If you say you did not, mademoiselle, that is enough,’ I
answered.
‘Nay, but do not let me do you an injustice, M. de Marsac,’ she
rejoined, speaking more quickly and in an altered tone. ‘If you can show
me the favour I gave you, I shall, of course, be convinced. Seeing
is believing, you know,’ she added, with a light nervous laugh, and a
gesture of something like shyness.
If I had not sufficiently regretted my carelessness, and loss of the bow
at the time, I did so now. I looked at her in silence, and saw her face,
that had for a moment shown signs of feeling, almost of shame, grow
slowly hard again.
‘Well, sir?’ she said impatiently. ‘The proof is easy.’
‘It was taken from me; I believe, by M. de Rosny,’ I answered lamely,
wondering what ill-luck had led her to put the question and press it to
this point.
‘It was taken from you!’ she exclaimed, rising and confronting me with
the utmost suddenness, while her eyes flashed, and her little hand
crumpled the mask beyond future usefulness. ‘It was taken from you,
sir!’ she repeated, her voice and her whole frame trembling with
anger and disdain. ‘Then I thank you, I prefer my version. Yours is
impossible. For let me tell you, when Mademoiselle de la Vire does
confer a favour, it will be on a man with the power and the wit--and the
constancy, to keep it, even from M. de Rosny!’
Her scorn hurt, though it did not anger me. I felt it to be in a measure
deserved, and raged against myself rather than against her. But aware
through all of the supreme importance of placing her in safety, I
subjected my immediate feelings to the exigencies of the moment and
stooped to an argument which would, I thought, have weight though
private pleading failed.
‘Putting myself aside, mademoiselle,’ I said, with more formality than I
had yet used, ‘there is one consideration which must weigh with you. The
king--’
‘The king!’ she cried, interrupting me violently, her face hot with
passion and her whole person instinct with stubborn self-will. ‘I shall
not see the king!’
‘You will not see the king?’ I repeated in amazement.
‘No, I will not!’ she answered, in a whirl of anger, scorn, and
impetuosity. ‘There! I will not! I have been made a toy and a tool long
enough, M. de Marsac,’ she continued, ‘and I will serve others’ ends no
more. I have made up my mind. Do not talk to me; you will do no good,
sir. I would to Heaven,’ she added bitterly, ‘I had stayed at Chize and
never seen this place!’
‘But, mademoiselle,’ I said, ‘you have not thought--’
‘Thought!’ she exclaimed, shutting her small white teeth so viciously
I all but recoiled. ‘I have thought enough. I am sick of thought. I am
going to act now. I will be a puppet no longer. You may take me to the
castle by force if you will; but you cannot make me speak.’
I looked at her in the utmost dismay, and astonishment; being unable at
first to believe that a woman who had gone through so much, had run so
many risks, and ridden so many miles for a purpose, would, when all
was done and the hour come, decline to carry out her plan. I could
not believe it, I say, at first; and I tried arguments, and entreaties
without stint, thinking that she only asked to be entreated or coaxed.
But I found prayers and even threats breath wasted upon her; and beyond
these I would not go. I know I have been blamed by some and ridiculed by
others for not pushing the matter farther; but those who have stood face
to face with a woman of spirit--a woman whose very frailty and weakness
fought for her--will better understand the difficulties with which I had
to contend and the manner in which conviction was at last borne in on
my mind. I had never before confronted stubbornness of this kind. As
mademoiselle said again and again, I might force her to Court, but I
could not make her speak.
When I had tried every means of persuasion, and still found no way of
overcoming her resolution the while Fanchette looked on with a face of
wood, neither aiding me nor taking part against me--I lost, I confess,
in the chagrin of the moment that sense of duty which had hitherto
animated me; and though my relation to mademoiselle should have made me
as careful as ever of her safety, even in her own despite, I left her
at last in anger and went out without saying another word about removing
her--a thing which was still in my power. I believe a very brief
reflection would have recalled me to myself and my duty; but the
opportunity was not given me, for I had scarcely reached the head of the
stairs before Fanchette came after me, and called to me in a whisper to
stop.
She held a taper in her hand, and this she raised to my face, smiling at
the disorder which she doubtless read there. ‘Do you say that this house
is not safe?’ she asked abruptly, lowering the light as she spoke.
‘You have tried a house in Blois before?’ I replied with the same
bluntness. ‘You should know as well as I, woman.’
‘She must be taken from here, then,’ she answered, nodding her head,
cunningly. ‘I can persuade her. Do you send for your people, and be here
in half an hour. It may take me that time to wheedle her. But I shall do
it.’
‘Then listen,’ I said eagerly, seizing the opportunity and her sleeve
and drawing her farther from the door. ‘If you can persuade her to that,
you can persuade to all I wish. Listen, my friend,’ I continued, sinking
my voice still lower. ‘If she will see the king for only ten minutes,
and tell him what she knows, I will give you--’
‘What?’ the woman asked suddenly and harshly, drawing at the same time
her sleeve from my hand.
‘Fifty crowns,’ I replied, naming in my desperation a sum which would
seem a fortune to a person in her position. ‘Fifty crowns down, the
moment the interview is over.’
‘And for that you would have me sell her!’ the woman cried with a rude
intensity of passion which struck me like a blow. ‘For shame! For
shame, man! You persuaded her to leave her home and her friends, and the
country where she was known; and now you would have me sell her! Shame
on you! Go!’ she added scornfully. ‘Go this instant and get your men.
The king, say you? The king! I tell you I would not have her finger ache
to save all your kings!’
She flounced away with that, and I retired crestfallen; wondering much
at the fidelity which Providence, doubtless for the well-being of the
gentle, possibly for the good of all, has implanted in the humble.
Finding Simon, to whom I had scarce patience to speak, waiting on the
stairs below, I despatched him to Maignan, to bid him come to me with
his men. Meanwhile I watched the house myself until their arrival,
and then, going up, found that Fanchette had been as good as her word.
Mademoiselle, with a sullen mien, and a red spot on either cheek,
consented to descend, and, preceded by a couple of links, which Maignan
had thoughtfully provided, was escorted safely to my lodgings; where I
bestowed her in the rooms below my own, which I had designed for her.
At the door she turned and bowed to me, her face on fire.
‘So far, sir, you have got your way,’ she said, breathing quickly. ‘Do
not flatter yourself, however, that you will get it farther--even by
bribing my woman!’