He took his leave with those words. But his departure, which I
should have hailed a few minutes before with joy, as a relief from
embarrassment and humiliation, found me indifferent. The statement to
which he had solemnly pledged himself in regard to the King of Navarre,
that I could expect no further help from him, had prostrated me; dashing
my hopes and spirits so completely that I remained rooted to the spot
long after his step had ceased to sound on the stairs. If what he said
was true, in the gloom which darkened alike my room and my prospects
I could descry no glimmer of light. I knew His Majesty’s weakness and
vacillation too well to repose any confidence in him; if the King
of Navarre also abandoned me, I was indeed without hope, as without
resource.
I had stood some time with my mind painfully employed upon this problem,
which my knowledge of M. de Turenne’s strict honour in private matters
did not allow me to dismiss lightly, when I heard another step on the
stairs, and in a moment M. la Varenne opened the door. Finding me in the
dark he muttered an apology for the remissness of the servants; which I
accepted, seeing nothing else for it, in good part.
‘We have been at sixes-and-sevens all day, and you have been forgotten,’
he continued. ‘But you will have no reason to complain now. I am ordered
to conduct you to His Majesty without delay.’
‘To St. Cloud?’ I exclaimed, greatly astonished.
‘No, the king of France is here,’ he answered.
‘At Meudon?’
‘To be sure. Why not?’
I expressed my wonder at his Majesty’s rapid recovery.
‘Pooh!’ he answered roughly. ‘He is as well as he ever was. I will leave
you my light. Be good enough to descend as soon as you are ready, for it
is ill work keeping kings waiting. Oh! and I had forgotten one thing,’
he continued, returning when he had already reached the door. ‘My orders
are to see that you do not hold converse with anyone until you have seen
the king, M. de Marsac. You will kindly remember this if we are kept
waiting in the antechamber.’
‘Am I to be transported to--other custody?’ I asked, my mind full of
apprehension.
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Possibly,’ he replied. ‘I do not know.’
Of course there was nothing for it but to murmur that I was at the
king’s disposition; after which La Varenne retired, leaving me to put
the best face on the matter I could. Naturally I augured anything
but well of an interview weighted with such a condition; and this
contributed still further to depress my spirits, already lowered by the
long solitude in which I had passed the day. Fearing nothing, however,
so much as suspense, I hastened to do what I could to repair my costume,
and then descended to the foot of the stairs, where I found my custodian
awaiting me with a couple of servants, of whom one bore a link.
We went out side by side, and having barely a hundred yards to go,
seemed in a moment to be passing through the gate of the Castle. I
noticed that the entrance was very strongly guarded, but an instant’s
reflection served to remind me that this was not surprising after what
had happened at St. Cloud. I remarked to M. la Varenne as we crossed the
courtyard that I supposed Paris had surrendered; but he replied in the
negative so curtly, and with so little consideration, that I forebore to
ask any other questions; and the Chateau being small, we found ourselves
almost at once in a long, narrow corridor, which appeared to serve as
the antechamber.
It was brilliantly lighted and crowded from end to end, and almost from
wall to wall, with a mob of courtiers; whose silence, no less than
their keen and anxious looks, took me by surprise. Here and there two or
three, who had seized upon the embrasure of a window, talked together in
a low tone; or a couple, who thought themselves sufficiently important
to pace the narrow passage between the waiting lines, conversed in
whispers as they walked. But even these were swift to take alarm, and
continually looked askance; while the general company stood at gaze,
starting and looking up eagerly whenever the door swung open or a
newcomer was announced. The strange silence which prevailed reminded me
of nothing so much as of the Court at Blois on the night of the Duke
of Mercoeur’s desertion; but that stillness had brooded over empty
chambers, this gave a peculiar air of strangeness to a room thronged in
every part.
M. la Varenne, who was received by those about the door with silent
politeness, drew me into the recess of a window; whence I was able
to remark, among other things, that the Huguenots present almost
outnumbered the king’s immediate following. Still, among those who were
walking up and down, I noticed M. de Rambouillet, to whom at another
time I should have hastened to pay my respects; with Marshal d’Aumont,
Sancy, and Humieres. Nor had I more than noted the presence of these
before the door of the chamber opened and added to their number Marshal
Biron, who came out leaning on the arm of Crillon. The sight of these
old enemies in combination was sufficient of itself to apprise me that
some serious crisis was at hand; particularly as their progress through
the crowd was watched, I observed, by a hundred curious and attentive
eyes.
They disappeared at last through the outer door, and the assemblage
turned as with one accord to see who came next. But nearly half an hour
elapsed before the Chamber door, which all watched so studiously, again
opened. This time it was to give passage to my late visitor, Turenne,
who came out smiling, and leaning, to my great surprise, on the arm of
M. de Rosny.
As the two walked down the room, greeting here and there an obsequious
friend, and followed in their progress by all eyes, I felt my heart sink
indeed; both at sight of Turenne’s good-humour, and of the company in
which I found him. Aware that in proportion as he was pleased I was like
to meet with displeasure, I still might have had hope left had I had
Rosny left. Losing him, however--and I could not doubt, seeing him as I
saw him, that I had lost him--and counting the King of Navarre as gone
already, I felt such a failure of courage as I had never known before.
I told myself with shame that I was not made for Courts, or for such
scenes as these; and recalling with new and keen mortification the poor
figure I had cut in the King of Navarre’s antechamber at St. Jean, I
experienced so strange a gush of pity for my mistress that nothing could
exceed the tenderness I felt for her. I had won her under false colours,
I was not worthy of her. I felt that my mere presence in her company in
such a place as this, and among these people, must cover her with shame
and humiliation.
To my great relief, since I knew my face was on fire, neither of the
two, as they walked down the passage, looked my way or seemed conscious
of my neighbourhood. At the door they stood a moment talking earnestly,
and it seemed as if M. de Rosny would have accompanied the Vicomte
farther. The latter would not suffer it, however, but took his leave
there; and this with so many polite gestures that my last hope based on
M. de Rosny vanished.
Nevertheless, that gentleman was not so wholly changed that on his
turning to re-traverse the room I did not see a smile flicker for an
instant on his features as the two lines of bowing courtiers opened
before him. The next moment his look fell on me, and though his face
scarcely altered, he stopped opposite me.
‘M. de Marsac is waiting to see His Majesty?’ he asked aloud, speaking
to M. la Varenne.
My companion remaining silent, I bowed.
‘In five minutes,’ M. de Rosny replied quietly, yet with a distant air,
which made me doubt whether I had not dreamed all I remembered of this
man. ‘Ah! M. de Paul, what can I do for you?’ he continued. And he bent
his head to listen to the application which a gentleman who stood next
me poured into his ear. ‘I will see,’ I heard him answer. ‘In any case
you shall know to-morrow.’
‘But you will be my friend?’ M. Paul urged, detaining him by the sleeve.
‘I will put only one before you,’ he answered.
My neighbour seemed to shrink into himself with disappointment. ‘Who is
it?’ he murmured piteously.
‘The king and his service, my friend,’ M. de Rosny replied drily. And
with that he walked away. But half a dozen times at least; before he
reached the upper end of the room I saw the scene repeated.
I looked on at all this in the utmost astonishment, unable to guess or
conceive what had happened to give M. de Rosny so much importance. For
it did not escape me that the few words he had stopped to speak to me
had invested me with interest in the eyes of all who stood near.
They gave me more room and a wider breathing-space, and looking at me
askance, muttered my name in whispers. In my uncertainty, however, what
this portended I drew no comfort from it; and before I had found time to
weigh it thoroughly the door through which Turenne and Rosny had entered
opened again. The pages and gentlemen who stood about it hastened to
range themselves on either side. An usher carrying a white wand came
rapidly down the room, here and there requesting the courtiers to stand
back where the passage was narrow. Then a loud voice without cried, ‘The
King, gentlemen! the King!’ and one in every two of us stood a-tiptoe to
see him enter.
But there came in only Henry of Navarre, wearing a violet cloak and cap.
I turned to La Varenne and with my head full of confusion, muttered
impatiently, ‘But the king, man! Where is the king?’
He grinned at me, with his hand before his mouth. ‘Hush!’ he whispered.
‘’Twas a jest we played on you! His late Majesty died at daybreak this
morning. This is the king.’
‘This! the King of Navarre?’ I cried; so loudly that some round us
called ‘Silence!’
‘No, the King of France, fool!’ he replied. ‘Your sword must be sharper
than your wits, or I have been told some lies!’
I let the gibe pass and the jest, for my heart was beating so fast and
painfully that I could scarcely preserve my outward composure. There was
a mist before my eyes, and a darkness which set the lights at defiance.
It was in vain I tried to think what this might mean--to me. I could not
put two thoughts together, and while I still questioned what reception
I might expect, and who in this new state of things were my friends, the
king stopped before me.
‘Ha, M. de Marsac!’ he cried cheerfully, signing to those who stood
before me to give place. ‘You are the gentleman who rode so fast to warn
me the other morning. I have spoken to M. de Turenne about you, and he
is willing to overlook the complaint he had against you. For the rest,
go to my closet, my friend. Go! Rosny knows my will respecting you.’
I had sense enough left to kneel and kiss his hand; but it was in
silence, which he knew how to interpret. He had moved on and was
speaking to another before I recovered the use of my tongue, or the wits
which his gracious words had scattered. When I did so, and got on my
feet again I found myself the centre of so much observation and the
object of so many congratulations that I was glad to act upon the hint
which La Varenne gave me, and hurry away to the closet.
Here, though I had now an inkling of what I had to expect, I found
myself received with a kindness which bade fair to overwhelm me. Only M.
de Rosny was in the room, and he took me by both hands in a manner which
told me without a word that the Rosny of old days was back, and that;
for the embarrassment I had caused him of late I was more than forgiven.
When I tried to thank him for the good offices which I knew he had done
me with the king he would have none of it; reminding me with a smile
that he had eaten of my cheese when the choice lay between that and
Lisieux.
‘And besides, my friend,’ he continued, his eyes twinkling, ‘You have
made me richer by five hundred crowns.’
‘How so?’ I asked, wondering more and more.
‘I wagered that sum with Turenne that he could not bribe you,’ he
answered, smiling. ‘And see,’ he continued, selecting from some on the
table the same parchment I had seen before, ‘here is the bribe. Take
it; it is yours. I have given a score to-day, but none with the same
pleasure. Let me be the first to congratulate the Lieutenant-Governor of
the Armagnac.’
For a while I could not believe that he was in earnest; which pleased
him mightily, I remember. When I was brought at last to see that the
king had meant this for me from the first, and had merely lent the
patent to Turenne that the latter might make trial of me, my pleasure
and gratification were such that I could no more express them then than
I can now describe them. For they knew no bounds. I stood before Rosny
silent and confused, with long-forgotten tears welling up to my eyes,
and one regret only in my heart--that my dear mother had not lived to
see the fond illusions with which I had so often amused her turned to
sober fact. Not then, but afterwards, I remarked that the salary of my
office amounted to the exact sum which I had been in the habit of naming
to her; and I learned that Rosny had himself fixed it on information
given him by Mademoiselle de la Vire.
As my transports grew more moderate, and I found voice to thank my
benefactor, he had still an answer. ‘Do not deceive yourself, my
friend,’ he said gravely, ‘or think this an idle reward. My master
is King of France, but he is a king without a kingdom, and a captain
without money. To-day, to gain his rights, he has parted with half his
powers. Before he win all back there will be blows--blows, my friend.
And to that end I have bought your sword.’
I told him that if no other left its scabbard for the king, mine should
be drawn.
‘I believe you,’ he answered kindly, laying his hand on my shoulder.
‘Not by reason of your words--Heaven knows I have heard vows enough
to-day!--but because I have proved you. And now,’ he continued, speaking
in an altered tone and looking at me with a queer smile, ‘now I suppose
you are perfectly satisfied? You have nothing more to wish for, my
friend?’
I looked aside in a guilty fashion, not daring to prefer on the top of
all his kindness a further petition. Moreover, His Majesty might have
other views; or on this point Turenne might have proved obstinate. In
a word, there was nothing in what had happened, or on M. de Rosny’s
communication, to inform me whether the wish of my heart was to be
gratified or not.
But I should have known that great man better than to suppose that he
was one to promise without performing, or to wound a friend when he
could not salve the hurt. After enjoying my confusion for a time he
burst into a great shout of laughter, and taking me familiarly by the
shoulders, turned me towards the door. ‘There, go!’ he said. ‘Go up the
passage. You will find a door on the right, and a door on the left. You
will know which to open.’
Forbidding me to utter a syllable, he put me out. In the passage, where
I fain would have stood awhile to collect my thoughts, I was affrighted
by sounds which warned me that the king was returning that way. Fearing
to be surprised by him in such a state of perturbation, I hurried to the
end of the passage, where I discovered, as I had been told, two doors.
They were both closed, and there was nothing about either of them to
direct my choice. But M. de Rosny was correct in supposing that I had
not forgotten the advice he had offered me on the day when he gave me
so fine a surprise in his own house--‘When you want a good wife, M.
de Marsac, turn to the right!’ I remembered the words, and without a
moment’s hesitation--for the king and his suite were already entering
the passage--I knocked boldly, and scarcely waiting for an invitation,
went in.
Fanchette was by the door, but stood aside with a grim smile, which I
was at liberty to accept as a welcome or not. Mademoiselle, who had been
seated on the farther side of the table, rose as I entered, and we stood
looking at one another. Doubtless she waited for me to speak first;
while I on my side was so greatly taken aback by the change wrought in
her by the Court dress she was wearing and the air of dignity with which
she wore it, that I stood gasping. I turned coward after all that had
passed between us. This was not the girl I had wooed in the greenwood
by St. Gaultier; nor the pale-faced woman I had lifted to the saddle
a score of times in the journey Paris-wards. The sense of unworthiness
which I had experienced a few minutes before in the crowded antechamber
returned in full force in presence of her grace and beauty, and once
more I stood tongue-tied before her, as I had stood in the lodgings at
Blois. All the later time, all that had passed between us was forgotten.
She, for her part, looked at me wondering at my silence. Her face, which
had grown rosy red at my entrance, turned pale again. Her eyes grew
large with alarm; she began to beat her foot on the floor in a manner I
knew. ‘Is anything the matter, sir?’ she muttered at last.
‘On the contrary, mademoiselle,’ I answered hoarsely, looking every way,
and grasping at the first thing I could think of, ‘I am just from M. de
Rosny.’
‘And he?’
‘He has made me Lieutenant-Governor of the Armagnac.’
She curtseyed to me in a wonderful fashion. ‘It pleases me to
congratulate you, sir,’ she said, in a voice between laughing and
crying. ‘It is not more than equal to your deserts.’
I tried to thank her becomingly, feeling at the same time more foolish
than I had ever felt in my life; for I knew that this was neither what I
had come to tell nor she to hear. Yet I could not muster up courage nor
find words to go farther, and stood by the table in a state of miserable
discomposure.
‘Is that all, sir?’ she said at last, losing patience.
Certainly it was now or never, and I knew it. I made the effort. ‘No,
mademoiselle,’ I said in a low voice. ‘Far from it. But I do not see
here the lady to whom I came to address myself, and whom I have seen
a hundred times in far other garb than yours, wet and weary and
dishevelled, in danger and in flight. Her I have served and loved; and
for her I have lived. I have had no thought for months that has not been
hers, nor care save for her. I and all that I have by the king’s bounty
are hers, and I came to lay them at her feet. But I do not see her
here.’
‘No, sir?’ she answered in a whisper, with her face averted.
‘No, mademoiselle.’
With a sudden brightness and quickness which set my heart beating she
turned, and looked at me. ‘Indeed!’ she said. ‘I am sorry for that. It
is a pity your love should be given elsewhere, M. de Marsac--since it is
the king’s will that you should marry me.’
‘Ah, mademoiselle!’ I cried, kneeling before her--for she had come round
the table and stood beside me--‘But you?’
‘It is my will too, sir,’ she answered, smiling through her tears.
* * *
On the following day Mademoiselle de la Vire became my wife; the king’s
retreat from Paris, which was rendered necessary by the desertion of
many who were ill-affected to the Huguenots, compelling the instant
performance of the marriage, if we would have it read by M. d’Amours.
This haste notwithstanding, I was enabled by the kindness of M. d’Agen
to make such an appearance, in respect both of servants and equipment,
as became rather my future prospects than my past distresses. It is
true that His Majesty, out of a desire to do nothing which might offend
Turenne, did not honour us with his presence; but Madame Catherine
attended on his behalf, and herself gave me my bride. M. de Sully and M.
Crillon, with the Marquis de Rambouillet and his nephew, and my distant
connection, the Duke de Rohan, who first acknowledged me on that day,
were among those who earned my gratitude by attending me upon the
occasion.
The marriage of M. Francois d’Agen with the widow of my old rival and
opponent did not take place until something more than a year later, a
delay which was less displeasing to me than to the bridegroom, inasmuch
as it left madame at liberty to bear my wife company during my absence
on the campaign of Arques and Ivry. In the latter battle, which added
vastly to the renown of M. de Rosny, who captured the enemy’s standard
with his own hand, I had the misfortune to be wounded in the second
of the two charges led by the king; and being attacked by two foot
soldiers, as I lay entangled I must inevitably have perished but for the
aid afforded me by Simon Fleix, who flew to the rescue with the courage
of a veteran. His action was observed by the king, who begged him
from me, and attaching him to his own person in the capacity of clerk,
started him so fairly on the road to fortune that he has since risen
beyond hope or expectation.
The means by which Henry won for a time the support of Turenne (and
incidentally procured his consent to my marriage) are now too notorious
to require explanation. Nevertheless, it was not until the Vicomte’s
union a year later with Mademoiselle de la Marck, who brought him the
Duchy of Bouillon, that I thoroughly understood the matter; or the
kindness peculiar to the king, my master, which impelled that great
monarch, in the arrangement of affairs so vast, to remember the
interests of the least of his servants.