LOUISE GAUTHIER FALLS INTO DANGEROUS HANDS
The same company filled the apartments as Gaudin and Marie returned.
But the mirth was wilder, and the laugh louder; the equivocal jest was
hazarded with greater freedom and the repartee was bolder. Several of
the company still preserved their masks; but many of the females had
discarded theirs, who hitherto had kept their faces closely veiled,
and now demonstrated the singular grades of female society, from the
highest to the very lowest, that had collected together. A branch-room
had been fitted up as a temporary stage, and on this a number of
dancers from Versailles were performing a ballet lately produced at
court, _La Naissance de Venus_, in such costumes as were especially
appropriate to the subject. It concluded as the Marchioness arrived in
the salon.
‘Lauzun seems inclined to make a reputation,’ said Sainte-Croix to
Dubois. ‘Fouquet himself would have felt his eyes blink at such
magnificence.’
‘I question whether he enjoys it, though,’ was the reply. ‘But it
suits his policy. What piece of diplomacy is he bringing to bear with
those two actresses?’
‘Let us assist him,’ said Gaudin, advancing towards a recess in which
the host was talking with great volubility to two of his fair guests,
one of whom was Marotte Dupré. The other Sainte-Croix directly
recognised as her rival, Estelle des Urlis.
‘I am suffocating with thirst,’ said the Marchioness, drawing Gaudin
in another direction. ‘Give me some wine.’
They turned towards the fountain, when her companion filled one of the
glass cups and gave it to her. Marie drank off the contents with
fevered eagerness, and then again took Sainte-Croix’s arm.
‘There,’ cried Lauzun, ‘I have brought together two most bitter
enemies, and I now engage that they shall be as warm friends. Come--we
will pledge this reconciliation generally. Dubois, Chavagnac,
Gaudin,--you must join us.’
‘Marotte, will you be our Hebe?’ asked Chavagnac.
‘She shall not be mine,’ exclaimed Estelle. ‘Though we are now friends
I would prefer filling for myself. I shall then be sure of what I
drink.’
‘Are _you_ afraid of the poisoners, Estelle?’ said Marotte. ‘I should
have thought you had been too well acquainted with them.’
‘A truce to this,’ said Lauzun, who perceived the tempers of the fair
ones were again rising. ‘The poisoners have all passed away.’
‘I know M. de la Reynie, the magistrate,’ said Marotte, ‘and he tells
a different story. He says he has a clue to some of them, and will
have them before long. Then there will be bonfires on the Grêve, and
I shall go and see them.’
She clapped her hands with delight at the anticipated spectacle.
‘You went with me to see the last, M. de Sainte-Croix,’ continued
Marotte; ‘you are too proud now.’
And she eyed the Marchioness as she spoke with no very kind
expression.
‘It was the Veuve Maupas who was burned,’ she went on. ‘She petitioned
to wear a mask at her execution, and they allowed her. Catherine
Deshayes--La Voisin, as they call her--is suspected; but at present
they can only prove that she showed M. de Beauvais the devil. She
wears a mask. _I_ would never wear one, for fear I should be taken for
an _empoisonneuse_.’
The Marchioness almost fainted at these words of Marotte, intended to
be nothing more than spiteful. She clutched closer hold to
Sainte-Croix’s arm to keep from falling.
‘Pshaw! let this pass,’ said Lauzun. ‘Ha! Desgrais! Will you join this
party?’
‘Hush!’ replied the person addressed; ‘not a syllable of my name,
Marquis, or you will defeat my plans.’
He was a handsome man, in the dress of an abbe, and was not above
thirty years old. His stature was above the middle height, and his
frame muscular and well-proportioned, whilst in his eyes there was a
peculiar expression of energy and sagacity. It was Desgrais, the most
active exempt of the Marechaussée, in one of the disguises he was
accustomed to assume with such success.
‘Have you been on any track to-night?’ asked Lauzun in a low voice.
‘No, monsieur,’ replied the exempt; ‘but I am upon one now. Who is
that with Sainte-Croix?’
‘I do not know. She has been closely masked all the evening. Is she
suspected of anything?’
‘No,’ replied Desgrais, with apparent unconcern, ‘no--nothing. I have
something to say to her companion, though.’
As he spoke, he went to the side of Sainte-Croix and whispered--
‘Can you spare me a minute or two, monsieur, in private? I have some
business concerning you which requires immediate adjustment.’
Sainte-Croix trembled for the instant as he recognised Desgrais; but
his presence of mind immediately returned, and he said gaily to
Lauzun--
‘Marquis, I may leave this lady in your charge for two minutes. Be
courteous to her as you are a gentleman and a friend of mine.’
Marie started back as Gaudin withdrew his arm, and vainly endeavoured
to make him seek some other cavalier; for she feared a recognition.
But, anxious to know what was the motive of the exempt’s appointment,
he took no notice of her, and handing her over to Lauzun, followed him
to the landing at the top of the grand staircase, where they were
alone.
‘You will excuse this interruption,’ said Desgrais. ‘I have been
looking after you all day; for I thought a meeting might save you much
unpleasantness. I believe you know M. François d’Aubray?’
‘What of him?’ asked Sainte-Croix quickly. ‘Is he not at Offemont?’
‘He was until this morning,’ replied Desgrais; ‘but has returned
somewhat unexpectedly, with some provincial neighbours.’
Gaudin started as he thought of Marie.
‘We must be candid with one another, Monsieur de Sainte-Croix,’
continued the exempt. ‘I need scarcely tell you that, in my position
with the police, there are few in Paris whose circumstances and
connections are not well known to me--amongst them I may count your
own debts and your affair with the Marchioness of Brinvilliers.’
‘Well, monsieur?’
‘Well, Monsieur de Sainte-Croix. Her brother has tried in every way to
crush you, and has in every way failed, until he has now bought over
the greater part of the debts owing by you in Paris. The task was not
difficult; for your creditors--excuse me--had better faith in his
ready gold than in your promises. In his name, and collectively for
those accounts, I now arrest you.’
‘Monsieur!’ cried Gaudin, ‘it is impossible for me to go with you
to-night. The arrest I care nothing for, for it can soon be settled;
but there is a lady here whom I cannot leave. You must postpone this
affair until to-morrow, when you will find me at home.’
‘It is as much as my position is worth,’ replied Desgrais. ‘Everything
will give place to a lady but a court of justice. You must come with
me.’
He spoke with such a tone of calm firmness, that Gaudin perceived at
once he must comply.
‘You will let me speak to her?’ he asked.
‘I would not have you go back to the room; a scene would but be
painful to all of us. Write what you like and send it to her. We will
then go down to some of the money-lenders on the Quai des Orfevres. If
you can raise a sop for this Cerberus of a lieutenant-civil, believe
me I shall be too happy. It is far from my wish to put to
inconvenience so gallant a gentleman as Captain de Sainte-Croix.’
The well-intended politeness with which this speech was made, somewhat
reassured Gaudin. He was not without hope of raising sufficient money,
at all events, to quiet his persecutor for a time. He therefore wrote
a few hasty lines to Marie, and bidding a servant who passed give them
to the masked lady with the Marquis of Lauzun, told Desgrais he was
ready to accompany him and knock up some of the usurers in question.
‘I have a carriage waiting in the Rue de la Harpe,’ said Desgrais,
‘and we will proceed to the river immediately. Stop!--some one is
coming up these stairs. Let us take the other flight.’
In effect a tumult was audible in the court, which neither had a
desire to face. They therefore passed further along the gallery, and
gained the _porte-cochère_ by another and less distinguished
staircase.
Whilst this hurried interview had been going on without, the same wild
mirth and laughter resounded through the apartments. Lauzun had been
vainly endeavouring to discover the name of the lady entrusted by
Sainte-Croix to his protection; but Marie contrived to disguise her
voice in such a manner that he had not the slightest suspicion. And to
this end her mask somewhat contributed, which, made after the fashion
of the time, had a small plate of silver arranged so as to go into the
mouth and quite alter the tones of those speaking with it.
As Gaudin left, the valet brought the few lines he had hastily
scribbled to the Marchioness, and then spoke in a low tone to Lauzun.
She read with utter dismay the following hurried message:--
‘I am arrested by Desgrais. Your brother has returned from Offemont.
Leave as speedily as you can, and get home unobserved. I may be
detained all night.
‘Gaudin.’
She was on the point of withdrawing from Lauzun when he cried out--
‘Fair ladies and gallant gentlemen, my fellows have captured a queen
for our _Fête de Fortune_, and she shall adjudge the prizes.
Barnard!--Laurent!--bring in your prize.’
As he spoke, the curtains at the door were parted, and two of Lauzun’s
valets half-dragged half-carried a young female into the room, who
appeared to be making violent resistance. Her eyes were bandaged, not
with a common handkerchief, but a sparkling fillet, evidently intended
for the purpose, and to be worn in the part she was about to play
against her will in one of the diversions of the evening. The company
directly thronged round her, entirely stopping up the doorway, so that
the egress of the Marchioness was rendered impossible, at least for
the present.
The task about to be imposed upon the stranger was that of
distributing various toys, trinkets, and bonbons, of comparatively
small value, to the guests as they were led up to her, her eyes being
blindfolded; and the game derived its excitement from the incongruity
or appropriateness of the objects offered. A stranger was always
selected for this office; and it was the custom, at orgies of this
kind, to scour the streets in the vicinity and lay hands upon the
first young and personable female that could be met with, the victim
being generally of the class of grisettes. Enough could be seen of the
features of the new-comer to prove that she was very handsome; but she
was very thinly clad, her extreme undress being covered by a large
cloak, which, as well as she was able, she kept tightly round her.
‘How did you catch this pretty bird?’ asked Lauzun of one of the
valets.
‘Monsieur,’ replied the fellow, ‘we had scoured all the streets in the
_quartier_ without meeting one eligible grisette--for it is now late,
when Laurent saw a light in a window of the Rue des Cordeliers. I
climbed up----’
‘No--it was I that first climbed, monsieur,’ interrupted his fellow.
‘Silence! you knaves,’ cried Lauzun, ‘or we will prevent each of you
from speaking, by splitting your tongues now and here. Go on,
Laurent.’
‘I climbed up, and saw through the casement our captive retiring to
bed--at least she was partly undressed; and I said to Barnard, “This
is our prey.”’
‘And you nearly lost her, because you would keep looking,’ said his
fellow.
‘Will you be quiet, sir?’ asked Lauzun with a threatening look. ‘Well,
what did you do next?’
‘We set fire to the outer wood-work of the house, and then raised the
cry _Au feu!_ In half a minute our beauty rushed into the street, as
you now see her. We heard the Garde Bourgeois approaching; we hurried
her off to the _chaise à porteurs_ we had at the corner--brought her
to the _porte-derobée_--and here we are.’[17]
‘You may remove the bandage just at present,’ said Lauzun. ‘We should
like to see what sort of eyes it veils.’
The valets took the fillet away from her face, and in a second the
Marchioness recognised the features of Louise Gauthier, whom she had
not seen since the evening of the stormy interview in the Grotto of
Thetis during the fetes at Versailles. She did not, of course, make
herself known; but at that instant, in the midst of all her anxiety to
reach the Hôtel d’Aubray without the knowledge of her brother, a
second thought for the time detained her. An opportunity appeared
likely to occur of accomplishing the determination she had formed--of
getting Louise Gauthier in her power and destroying her. She drew
herself away from Lauzun’s side, and, retreating to one of the
couches, awaited the proper time to carry her project into execution.
‘I beseech you, gentlemen, let me depart,’ exclaimed Louise, as the
scene around presented itself to her bewildered eyes. ‘There is some
mistake in this cruelty; you cannot want me here.’
‘Indeed, but we could not select a better goddess throughout Paris,’
said Lauzun. ‘It is not usual for the grisettes of our _quartier_ to
wish to leave the Hôtel de Cluny when they once find themselves
within its walls. Let me salute you as a stranger.’
Lauzun, with an assumption of idle gallantry, rather than the wish to
insult the poor girl, advanced towards her, and was about to proffer
his welcome, when he was somewhat rudely interrupted by the approach
of Benoit, who had been amusing the guests at another part of the room
with specimens of his new vocation.
‘_Tiens!_’ he exclaimed with surprise; ‘why, it is our little Louise,
whom we have not seen for so long!’
The girl heard Benoit’s voice, and sprang towards him for protection.
‘Get back, fellow!’ said Lauzun, not relishing the interruption.
‘Excuse me, Marquis,’ replied the other; ‘but I consider myself
responsible for our Louise’s welfare. It has been my lot to assist her
before to-night.’
‘Put this man on one side,’ said Lauzun to his valets.
‘Keep off!’ said Benoit as they approached, ‘or I will send you on a
flight without wings through the window.’
‘Turn him out of the house,’ said Lauzun; ‘or rather put him in the
cellar: he won’t alarm any one there. Away with him, I say!’
The foremost of the servants advanced; but Benoit met him with a blow
from his own sturdy arm, which sent him reeling against the wall of
the apartment. The other servants immediately threw themselves upon
him, and the honest Languedocian, whose good angel always appeared to
desert him when his services were most required, was in an instant
borne away, kicking and struggling, to one of the underground chambers
of the _hôtel_.
Meantime the company disposed themselves for the games. Lauzun went up
to Louise, and assuring her that no evil was intended if she complied
with their regulations, fastened the bandage once more across her
eyes; whilst Marotte Dupré, who had some recollection of having seen
her with Madame Scarron at Versailles, took off a rich cloak of green
satin, with large full sleeves, which she had been wearing, and made
the poor stranger don it, in lieu of the mantle which at present
scarcely enveloped her dishabille, at the same time telling her that
no evil was really intended to herself. The greater part of the
company then formed into a large circle, holding hands, and moving
round to measure, the band being apparently well aware of what was
going on, although, as we have stated, concealed from the sight.
Louise was placed on an elevated seat; a large basket, containing the
awards, was placed at her side, and the game commenced.
A variety of intricate figures were first danced, in which the
partners were frequently changed, somewhat in the style of our
cotillons at the present day. In this the actresses showed themselves
most apt, and they were now joined by the girls who had figured in the
ballet. To avoid being particularised, Marie stood up with the rest,
and the exceeding grace with which she threaded the mazes of the
figure, attracted general attention. Lauzun saw that she evidently
belonged to a phase of society superior to the majority; but he was
unable to gain the slightest clue to her real name.
At last, at a given signal, they all stopped with the partners they
happened to have at that instant, and then advanced in pairs before
Louise, who tremblingly distributed the different articles to them;
and the gentleman and lady were expected in turn to make some speech
appropriate to the gifts presented. In this the principal address was
shown; for whilst some could but mumble out a few clumsy phrases or
compliments, others convulsed the assembly with laughter at a smart
repartee or jest. Truth to tell, the greater portion of them were all
tolerably well up to their business; for habitude had rendered them
tolerably _au fait_ at uttering a jest on the spur of the moment; and,
as a pretty wide license was allowed, when a laugh could not be raised
by wit it was done by _entendre_.
Lauzun had a small trinket-key given to him, and Estelle recommended
him to keep it against he got into the Bastille, which would be sure
to occur, in the common course of things, before three weeks. Marotte
Dupré had a heart of sweetmeat, and her partner an imitation-piece of
money of the same material, about which appropriate distributions
Dubois made great mirth, having a ready tact for impromptus. When the
signal for the cessation of the dance was made (which the leader of it
generally took care to do when he found himself with an agreeable
partner), Chavagnac was next to the Marchioness of Brinvilliers. He
led her forward, and the rest of the company looked on with more than
usual interest to see what the incognita would gain. By an error of
Louise, who was throughout the ceremony so flurried that she scarcely
knew what she was doing, she presented the first gift to Chavagnac--a
small flacon of scent, than which nothing could be more absurd, rough
soldier, almost marauder, as he was. But to Marie, and to her alone,
her own present had a terrible meaning. It was a small headsman’s axe,
in sugar and silver foil!
She sickened as she gazed at the terrible omen,--so perfectly
unimportant to the rest of the company,--and turned away from the
circle, heedless of some unmeaning words that Chavagnac addressed to
her. In a few minutes the ring broke up, and then she approached
Louise Gauthier and said hurriedly through her mask--
‘You cannot tell to what lengths of debauchery this reckless party may
proceed. If you value your happiness, follow me directly, without a
word or sign to anybody.’
Louise fancied she recognised the voice; but the circumstance of one
like the Marchioness being in such a company appeared utterly
improbable. She was also too anxious to escape from the _hôtel_; and
as Marie seized her arm, she implicitly followed her to the door.
‘Stop, _mes belles_!’ cried Lauzun; ‘we cannot part yet: you may not
be spared so early.’
‘I am faint with the heat,’ replied the Marchioness, ‘and only wish to
go into the cool air for a minute; it will revive me.’
They passed out upon the top of the staircase, and then as soon as the
curtain had fallen back over the doorway, Marie told Louise to keep
close to her, as she descended rapidly into the court-yard. They
passed out at the _porte-cochère_ unnoticed; and, finding a carriage
at the corner of the Rue St. Jacques, the Marchioness made Louise
enter, and, following herself, gave the word to the coachman to drive
to her house in the Rue St. Paul.