CHAPTER XXIII

THE MASQUERADE

That night it was my duty to take the guard outside the Queen's

apartments. Circumstances had made it impossible for me to have speech

with De Lorgnac, and Le Brusquet was nowhere to be seen, so that I was

unable to inform them of what I knew.

Full of the discovery I had made, and with my thoughts running on the

danger that threatened mademoiselle, I paced backward and forward

before the door leading into the ante-room, my long shadow keeping me

ghostly company. It was the night of the great masque given by the

King in honour of his Diane's birthday--the masque in which she was to

flaunt in the Crown diamonds--and, as may be imagined, there was not a

soul to be seen in the gallery that curved before me into dim,

mysterious gloom.

Now and again I thought I heard a laugh and the sound of subdued voices

from within the ante-room; but, guessing that the mice were probably

playing within, I paid no heed, and, being a little tired, seated

myself on the coffer that lay in the shadow near the door, and stared

moodily into the silence, absorbed in my own sombre reflections.

On a sudden I heard the patter of footsteps--hasty, rapid footsteps

coming towards me along the gallery. I challenged, and got the

password on the instant in Le Brusquet's voice, and in a half-minute

the little man emerged from the gloom and stood beside me.

"I was ready to give my last pistole to see you," I began; but he put

up his hand, saying in a low tone, as he pointed to the door:

"Hush! Is there anyone within?"

"Mice, I think," I answered softly.

"Perhaps a cat." And he dropped his voice to the lowest whisper.

"Whoever they are I must empty that room ere we speak, for I have, I

think, as much for you as you for me."

With this he knocked twice sharply at the door. After a moment it was

opened, and putting the curtains aside Le Brusquet slipped into the

room. In doing so, whether by accident or design, he left the door

open and the curtains drawn back, so that from where I stood in the

shadow outside I could see and hear all that passed within. There were

only two persons there, and I smiled a little to myself at Le

Brusquet's caution, for one was pretty Mademoiselle Davila, seated

demurely on a tabouret, and the other was a fair-haired boy of sixteen

or so, who stood with a red face and an uncomfortable air some distance

away from her.

"Mice, as I thought," I chuckled to myself, whilst Le Brusquet, with a

profound bow, said:

"Mademoiselle, I had thought to have found M. de Lorgnac in waiting

here."

"Here! M. de Lorgnac!" replied the maid-of-honour, with a little

laugh. "No; M. de Lorgnac never ventures here, unless compelled to."

"I suppose neither of you can tell me where he has gone? Can you, De

Lorges?" And he turned to the page; but the boy only grew redder, and

began to make a fumbling reply.

Mademoiselle Davila, however, cut in. "He has gone to the masque."

And with a burst of confidence as she rose to her feet: "The Queen has

gone too, monsieur."

"To the masque! The masque she said she would never attend!"

"Oh, the Queen is a woman, monsieur! And so she has gone, and gone

masked, too, with Monsieur de Lorgnac in attendance--not a soul

else--and I have been left here--ah!" And she stamped her little foot.

"One cannot even hear the music. Oh! it is a grave, this place--a

grave!"

"Faith! I know those who would think this little waiting-room a

heaven."

"Who?" She was a good girl, but a coquette to her finger-tips, and the

bait took.

Ere he answered Le Brusquet slipped his arm through that of the page,

who seemed to be meditating flight.

"That, mademoiselle," he said slyly, "is a secret between De Lorges and

myself."

Mademoiselle coloured very prettily, and half turning from her

tormentor, said:

"I shall never speak to you again, monsieur--never."

"Mademoiselle, if you keep that vow I shall die in a week; but see, I

will make amends. Why not slip on a hood and go to the masque? De

Lorges will be proud to escort you."

She looked around her, half delighted, half frightened at the thought,

and then, with a nervous laugh:

"I dare not risk it."

"Why not? Not a soul will know; and if there is any trouble say that

Le Brusquet played an evil turn on you, and told you you were summoned

by the Queen. I will not deny it; and it will still Madame de Montal's

tongue. Come, De Lorges, persuade her."

"It would be a rare jest, mademoiselle!" And, trembling with

eagerness, De Lorges made a step forward.

She stood wavering. There was another word of encouragement from Le

Brusquet, and she took the plunge.

"A moment," she said, and vanished into the inner room.

"_Eh bien_, monsieur," and Le Brusquet turned towards De Lorges, "you

have a great trust to-night; guard it carefully."

"Monsieur," replied the boy, "with my life," and he touched the hilt of

his little sword. He was a gallant lad this son of Montgomery de

Lorges.

Le Brusquet bowed to hide the twinkle in his eyes; and now Mademoiselle

Davila reappeared, disguised in a red hood and mask.

"No one will guess." And Le Brusquet surveyed her with a critical air,

whilst De Lorges, who longed to be off, burst out: "Come, mademoiselle!

I shall steal a mask and hood from somewhere later on."

But a new obstacle had arisen. "I forgot," she said, "the guard at the

door."

"Reassure yourself, mademoiselle. It is a friend--Orrain."

"The hero!" And she clapped her hands. "Come, De Lorges." And, with

a little nod to Le Brusquet, she ran to the door, followed by the page.

As the two came forth she stopped.

"Monsieur d'Orrain, you will not betray us?"

"Not I, mademoiselle."

"Then as a reward I tell you there is someone you would like to see

reading Marot's verses in the Queen's cabinet."

Without waiting for an answer, she tripped off down the gallery, De

Lorges by her side. There was a flash of the red hood, and the two

were gone.

"_Enfin_!" And Le Brusquet sat himself down on the coffer. "We are

rid of that chattering feather-brain; but, before everything, tell me

when you will be relieved."

"Within the hour."

"That will do excellently. Now for your news. Mine can keep for ten

minutes."

I told him what I had learned, and he listened without a word until the

end, listened seated on the coffer, with his chin resting on his knees,

his long nose drooping over his mouth, and his keen little eyes shining

like beads.

"A good day's work," he said when I had finished; "never better. Two

things are in my favour; one is that they have not got that grant yet;

the other, that the three seem to be dissatisfied with their angles of

the triangle. Each wants what the other has, like cats over their

bowls of milk; and there is an old proverb, too, about thieves falling

out, which you, no doubt, remember."

"I shall put the whole matter before the Queen, and beg her to place

Mademoiselle de Paradis in safety until this is ended."

"There is much water to flow under the bridges before this will end;

but it will be a good move. The Admiral too will know of the triangle

in three days; and, if I mistake not, that means that the Peace of

Vaucelles is waste-paper. It will stop the Spanish pensions, at any

rate for a time, and hit our vampires hard." And he chuckled as he

slipped down from the coffer on to his feet. "_Mon ami_," he went on

in his strange way, "to-night and to-morrow I shall be stirring this

porridge, and by noon to-morrow you will have certain news, and then we

can act. And now for your task."

"My task?"

"Yes. I knew the Queen was at the masque; she has gone there to see

Diane wearing her jewels. _That_ she will never forgive; and there

will be a bitter vengeance some day--mark my words! The Queen requires

the attendance of Mademoiselle de Paradis. She knows of this. It was

arranged before, and she is merely awaiting the summons in the cabinet

yonder, and you are to take her to the masque."

"But I have neither mask nor hood!"

"That is arranged also, and I have them ready for you. I will take

mademoiselle out now, and you will meet us after your relief on the

battlements outside the Philippine. You know the spot where the

stairway leads from the gallery?"

"Perfectly."

"Then _au revoir_!" With this he slipped back into the ante-room, and

five minutes after came forth, accompanied by a masked and hooded

figure that would have been unrecognisable except that I knew it was

Mademoiselle de Paradis.

As they came out we heard, far away in the distance, the challenge of a

sentry.

"It is the relief," I said. "Quick!"

They waved their hands to me and sped like sprites along the gallery;

and I waited, wondering what more the night would bring forth.

In about ten minutes the relief came up; and M. de Tolendal, who was in

charge, was so eager to get back to the masquerade that he made no

inquiries, and got off as soon as possible, dismissing me at the same

time. I let monsieur hurry back along the gallery, following at a slow

pace behind him, until I came to the steps that led down to the

battlements, and passing through the archway reached the place

appointed by Le Brusquet. Here I found the two awaiting me in the

shadow of the donjon, and Le Brusquet said: "Here is your hood and

mask. I kept them here to save trouble in carrying them. Remember

that mademoiselle is the double of the Queen and you of De Lorgnac.

And now away with you; I have other fish to fry." With this he ran up

the stairway, and entered the Philippine.

"Mademoiselle," I asked, "can you guess what this means?"

"No, monsieur. All that I know is that it is the Queen's command, and

that we are to be there by midnight."

"It will be that soon, so come."

She put her arm in mine, and we hastened along the edge of the

battlements. We could hear music now; and as we went on the strains

grew louder and louder, and at last we stood on the parapet overlooking

the Ladies' Terrace. Beneath us stretched the gardens of the palace,

and thousands of lights glowed, in many-coloured radiance, from within

the foliage of the trees wherein they were set; or, raised high in the

air, burned in rainbow-hued arches and fantastic loops and curves.

Beneath these lights, in and out of the shrubberies, amongst the

parterres, in the shadows and in the light, was an ever-moving crowd

and the continuous hum of voices, and now and again merry ripples of

laughter came to us as we watched from above. A little beyond, to the

right, the façade of the audience hall was ablaze with light, and on

the broad flight of steps leading to the main entrance were gay groups,

the rich colouring of their dresses--orange, red, gold, and

purple--making them appear in the distance like masses of gorgeous

flowers.

We were soon in the crowd below, making our way towards the audience

hall; but our progress was not rapid, for time after time a mask or a

group of hooded revellers stopped us; but with light words and merry

jests we put them aside, and descending the steps entered the great

hall. Here the crowd was so great that we were barely able to move;

but at last we reached a pillar, on the base of which I placed my

charge, and, standing beside her, we looked here, there, and everywhere

for the Queen and De Lorgnac.

"I do not see them," whispered mademoiselle.

"'Tis like searching for a needle in sand; but, if I mistake not,

Madame de Poitiers will prove a magnet. Let us keep our eyes there."

With this I pointed before me towards the upper end of the hall, where

a large empty space was reserved for dancing, though for the present

the music had ceased, and the musicians were seated idle in the

galleries above. Beyond this space was a dais, surmounted by a canopy

of pale blue silk, spangled with the silver crescents of Diane de

Poitiers. Behind the dais ran a huge buffet, many stages in height,

rich with matchless plate, and in the centre was a sword, an enormous

cross-hilted sword, said to be the Joyeuse of Charlemagne.

On each side of the dais stood the two hundred gentlemen of the King's

house in violet and gold, the bright steel blades of the battle-axes

they bore on their shoulders reflecting back the light in dazzling

rays, and immediately in front stood the herald Montjoy with his

trumpeters.

Although every soul in the crowd wore a mask and hood there were many

on the dais who wore no disguise, and amongst these was the King.

Henri was clad in white, with a white plume in his cap, in memory of

the day years ago when, arrayed in white armour, he had ridden the

lists at Fontainebleau in honour of Diane, and borne her arms to

victory. Near him was Laval, the gallant Bois-Dauphin, who ran the

King hard in that gentle day, and, but for the short splintering of a

lance, might have been declared the victor. He too was clad in memory

of the day, all in scarlet, with a phoenix for his crest--the arms of

Claude de Foix. For the moment he was engaged in talk with a brilliant

cavalier, the Bayard of his age, Francis, Marquis de Vieilleville.

But though here and there a great name, or a striking figure on the

dais, might attract attention, almost all interest was centred on a

woman, who stood with the fingers of one hand resting lightly on the

King's arm. It was Diane de Poitiers herself. Tall, with black,

curling hair and perfect features, with dark, melting eyes, she bore

herself as a queen. The royal jewels of France sparkled on her head,

at her throat, and on her arms, and glittered amidst the robes of black

and white she wore. Her voice when she spoke was low and sweet, yet I

had heard it as hard as steel, and I had seen those red lips curve

wickedly, and those dark eyes had looked with sullen and pitiless

indifference on scenes of hideous torture and death. There were two

masks in front of us, arm-in-arm, watching the scene as intently as we

were.

"That woman was born to be queen over men. Look at those eyes,

Montaigne!"

The answer came in a dry, precise voice: "Eyes are the windows of the

soul; but _Quid tibi praecipiam molles vitare fenestras_?--and you are

courtier enough, De Brantôme, to appreciate Fontanus' warning."

"I am courtier enough, my philosopher, to know that the crescent moon,

for instance, is out of my reach, not like that orange mask there."

"I do not know to whom you refer."

"There, at the edge of the dais. 'Tis De Ganache, who, from the day he

set foot in Court, has followed Diane about like a spaniel; and though

I care not to gossip----"

Mademoiselle shivered, and half turned towards me; but the talk came to

an abrupt ending, for the herald Montjoy made a sign, and the

trumpeters, advancing each a step, sounded a flourish. It was the

signal for the galliard. As the flourish ended the music broke forth,

and in a moment the empty space before us was gay with moving colours,

like a wind-stirred flower bed. Those on the dais seemed to melt away,

and mademoiselle, leaning forwards, whispered: "Take me out of this!

Anywhere but here!"

She took my arm again, and we edged our way back to the entrance.

Here, however, we found the throng so great that it was impossible to

pass, and seeing a little passage to our right I turned down it. Here,

amidst some foliage, was a secluded seat, and seating her there I took

my stand beside her, at a narrow window that opened out upon the

Ladies' Terrace. The night was warm, and throwing back her hood and

removing her mask mademoiselle leaned forward and looked out upon the

fairy scene in the gardens. The music came to us in fitful strains of

melody, and outside was a glittering enchantment.

"Have you changed your opinion of the Court, mademoiselle?" I asked.

"No!--a hundred times no! Monsieur, I would rather be the poorest

peasant girl on my lands than Diane de Paradis."

I was about to reply when we heard a laugh and the sound of low voices

near us. Where we sat it was almost dark; but there was a dim light in

the passage, and through the foliage we saw two figures standing side

by side not three feet from us. In the orange hood of one I recognised

De Ganache, and the other--yes, that laugh and voice, once heard, were

never to be forgotten.

De Ganache held her hand in his. He raised it to his lips, and

covering it with kisses broke into mad, foolish words--the speech of a

man who has cast aside all self-respect, all honour. Ere he had spoken

ten words, however, mademoiselle had sprung from her seat and stepped

out into the passage, I following on her heels. At sight of her De

Ganache went back as if he had been struck; but with superb insolence

the Duchess stood in her way.

"So," she said in hard tones, "this is the second time to-night!" And

then, with a shameless laugh, she turned to De Ganache. "You are

unfortunate, Monsieur le Vicomte; you see, I have a rival even here. I

congratulate mademoiselle on the quickness with which she has learned

the lessons of the Court." And with a mocking bow she took De Ganache

by the arm and swept down the passage.

Mademoiselle was shivering from head to foot, and even by the uncertain

light I could see her eyes were swimming with tears. For a moment all

her courage, all her high spirit, seemed to have left her.

"Oh, what does this mean?" she moaned. "What does she mean by the

second time? I----"

"She meant, mademoiselle, that she had met the Queen, who is masked as

you are; but, Queen or no Queen," I went on grimly, "you have had

enough of this, and I will take you back at once. There! Put on your

mask, and draw your hood up--and come!"

I led her back towards the main entrance, which we managed to gain this

time without much difficulty, and thence into the gardens.

Mademoiselle spoke no word, nor did I intrude upon her thoughts. We

crossed the Ladies' Terrace, the little groups of people scattered here

and there being much too absorbed in their own business to take any

note of us, and finally stood once more upon the battlements. Along

these we hurried until we reached the stairway leading to the

Philippine, and as we came up two figures stepped out of the shadow

into our path. My charge shrank back with a little gasp of alarm, so

sudden and unexpected was their appearance, and I half drew my poniard,

but put it back again on the moment, for I recognised De Lorgnac and Le

Brusquet.

"I thought we would meet you here," said the latter; "but your task

ends now, Chevalier. De Lorgnac will now escort mademoiselle back."

"If I am permitted the honour," put in De Lorgnac.

"It seems that to-night I must play the marionette to your pulling, Le

Brusquet," I laughed as I made way for De Lorgnac; and for once the

little man made no reply, but addressing Diane said: "The Queen has

already returned, and you will find the salon full, mademoiselle; but

before you go give me that hood; it might tell tales. I will see it

safely returned."

Diane removed the hood, and handed the soft silken folds to Le Brusquet.

"Messieurs," she said, her eyes shining brightly behind the mask she

still wore, "it seems that you are hiding something from me. What is

it?"

"You will know in a few minutes, mademoiselle," said De Lorgnac, "for

the Queen herself will tell you."

She made no answer, but, gravely wishing us good-night, followed De

Lorgnac up the stone steps, and, passing through the archway, the two

were lost to our view. When they had gone I turned to Le Brusquet.

"I too am in the dark. What did De Lorgnac mean?"

"He meant that his Majesty, by some means or other, discovered that the

Queen was at the masque and who remained behind in the cabinet. The

result was that, an hour after you took mademoiselle away, the King,

attended only by the Vidame d'Orrain--both wearing masks and

hoods--visited the Queen's apartments, and----" He stopped and

chuckled.

"And what?" I said.

"And found the Queen alone in her cabinet reading Ronsard."

Orrain: A Romance · 第 23 / 31 章