Was I Mistaken?
At the corner of the narrow street opposite the astrologer's house I
stopped suddenly, and hid in the shelter of a doorway. Two men,
wearing cloaks so arranged that their faces could not be seen, stood
before the door, waiting for admission. One, a short man, was a
stranger to me, but at the other I looked my hardest.
It is not an easy matter to distinguish a person whose features are
hidden, but if height, build, and general carriage counted for
anything, then the tall man was no other than my cousin Henri.
Presently, after a whispered conversation with some one inside, they
entered the house, and the door was shut.
Now, although Mazarin kept his own counsel, I had learned that the
house of the good Martin was a kind of spider's web, and that the silly
flies entangled in its meshes were for the most part members of the
Fronde. The house was visited by persons of both sexes and of all
ranks, from the members of the Royal family downwards. They went there
for all sorts of purposes. Some required rare medicines, others charms
to ward off or drive away disease; one desired to learn the date of his
death, another the success or failure of his plans, which the
astrologer was supposed to tell by the stars or by means of crystal
globes.
And the learned Martin, while plying his strange trade, discovered all
their secrets, their hopes and fears, their ambitions, their loves and
hates; and in due time the information reached that famous room in the
Palais Royal, where the wily Italian sat, spinning the fate of men and
nations alike.
It was no rare event therefore for strangers to be observed at the
astrologer's house, and in an ordinary way I should have taken no
further notice of the incident. But if one of the visitors was really
my cousin, there must be something strange happening. He had no faith
in the stars, and would certainly not bother his head about the future
as depicted in glass balls.
Besides--and this made the mystery deeper--he must know that Martin was
the Cardinal's friend, or rather dependant; and it seemed strange that
so clever a man as my cousin should trust himself in an enemy's power.
My head began to swim again as I tried to reason the matter out. Was
it Henri after all? It was possible I had been mistaken, and in any
case the note must be delivered, so, crossing the road, I knocked
boldly at the door.
After some delay the window above my head was opened, and a man
glancing out asked my business.
"To see your master, and that sharply," I replied.
Saying he would admit me immediately, the fellow disappeared, and
presently I heard him stumbling along the passage. He spent a long
time undoing the bolts and bars, but at last the door was opened wide.
"Enter, monsieur," said the fellow, "you will be welcome, though my
master is not dressed to receive visitors. He has passed the night in
reading the heavens, and is fatigued."
"That is strange! I thought he already had callers this morning."
Gazing at me in profound astonishment, the man exclaimed, "Visitors
here, monsieur? Impossible! You are the first to call."
"I must have been mistaken, then," said I, with assumed calmness, but
really more perplexed than ever. Unless my eyes had deceived me, the
man was not speaking truly--but why? Surely his master was at liberty
to receive anyone who chose to visit him!
Then another idea struck me. If Henri was one of the two men who had
entered the house, were we likely to meet? and if so, what would
happen? I had done his cause much harm, and had besides made him a
laughing-stock for the wits of Paris. Martin was no fighting man, and
the odds against me would be at least two to one. It seemed as if I
had stumbled again by accident into a hornet's nest.
While I brooded over these things the man fumbled with the door, taking
so long to replace the bars that I called on him sharply to make more
haste.
"I am ready, monsieur; this way," and he led me along the well-known
passage, up the crazy staircase, and so to the corridor, where on my
recent visit a soldier had kept guard.
Opening the door of the room in which I had first met Mazarin, the man
requested me to step inside and wait a moment or two whilst his master
dressed. The apartment appeared empty, but I kept my hand on my sword,
and was careful to peer behind the curtain. Rather, perhaps, to my
surprise no one was there; so I returned to the middle of the room and
stood by the table. In truth I felt very uneasy, and wished myself
safely in the street.
Five anxious minutes passed before the astrologer entered. He was
attired in dressing-gown, skull-cap, and slippers, and by his face one
would judge that he really had been keeping vigil all night.
"I regret to have kept you waiting," he said, with an air of apology,
"but your visit is somewhat early."
"Yet it seems I am not the first to need your services this morning."
"How?" exclaimed he. "You are mistaken. No one but yourself has been
here since yesterday."
"Well, I was certainly under the impression that two men entered this
house, as I approached it. But it is no concern of mine, except that
their presence might interfere with my errand. Be kind enough to read
this note, and to give me a written reply for the Cardinal."
Breaking the seal, he read the missive, and sitting down, rapidly
covered a sheet of paper with small, cramped, but legible writing,
while I stood on guard and alert, half expecting a sudden attack from
some unknown enemies.
However, nothing unusual happened. The astrologer finished his letter,
sealed it, and handed it to me, saying earnestly, "Take care of this,
as it is of more consequence than you may imagine. Further, it is
necessary that His Eminence should receive it without delay."
"_Peste!_" answered I laughing; "as my breakfast still waits for me in
the Rue des Catonnes I am not likely to waste much time on the road,"
and, bidding him adieu, I followed the servant, who had remained in the
corridor, downstairs.
"Monsieur has discovered his error?" said the fellow, questioningly, as
he conducted me along the narrow passage.
"Yes, the men must have gone into the next house. However, it does not
matter one way or another. I only feared to be kept waiting."
It was pleasant to be in the open air again, and I drew a deep breath.
The janitor barred the door, and I crossed the road in a state of
bewilderment. That two men had entered the house I felt positive, and
the more so from the odd behaviour of Martin and his servant. Who were
they? What did they want? Why had Martin lied about the matter?
These questions, and others like them, kept my brain busily employed,
but to no purpose. I could supply no satisfactory answers, and every
passing moment left me more perplexed.
It struck me once that Martin was playing the Cardinal false, but this
seemed absurd, and yet----
"No, no," I muttered, "he would not dare. Still, there is something
going on with which Mazarin should be made acquainted."
I did not relish the idea of playing the spy, but I was breaking no
confidence, and, after all, it was necessary to protect one's own
friends. My plan was soon formed. I walked along the narrow street,
waited five minutes at the farther end, and returned cautiously to a
dingy cabaret, from which a good view of the house could be obtained.
"Now," thought I, "unless my wits are wool-gathering, I am about to
behold a miracle. I am going to see two men leave a place which they
did not enter. Surely this Martin is something more than an
astrologer?"
For nearly an hour I remained with my eyes fixed on the door, which,
however, remained closed, and I began to feel a trifle discouraged.
What if I had discovered a mare's nest? The important letter was still
in my pocket, and Mazarin would be none too pleased at the delay.
Perhaps it would be best to abandon the enterprise and to return at
once.
I had almost resolved on this plan when two men strolled past the inn.
Filled with amazement, I rose quickly, and went into the street. The
door of the astrologer's house was shut; in truth it had not been
opened, yet here were my mysterious strangers several yards in front of
me! Rubbing my eyes, I wondered if I had made a second blunder! But
that was impossible, and the idea not worth considering. While I stood
thus, dazed and half-stupefied by the strangeness of the affair, the
men had walked half-way along the street.
Paris was now fully awake, the shops were open, people were hurrying to
their daily tasks, and the number of persons abroad made it difficult
to keep sight of my quarry. Several times the men stopped, and glanced
behind, as if afraid of being followed, but they did not notice me,
and, after a long roundabout journey, we all reached the Rue St.
Dominique.
Here the strangers, evidently concluding that caution was no longer
necessary, pushed back their hats and drew their cloaks from their
faces. It was as I had suspected from the first--the tall man was my
cousin Henri, but his companion was unknown to me. Taking a good look,
in order to describe him to Mazarin, I found him to be a short, dark
man, with an ugly face, but beautiful white teeth. His eyes were beady
and restless, he was bandy-legged, and walked with a peculiarly awkward
gait.
Half-way along the street the two stopped outside a handsome building,
conversed earnestly together for several minutes, and then, ascending
the steps, disappeared.
"Pouf!" I exclaimed. "What can that little bandy-legged fellow be
doing at the Hotel de Chevreuse? I wager he and my cousin are brewing
some fresh mischief."
As no good could possibly come from further waiting, I turned away, and
hurried back to the Palais Royal, eager to inform Mazarin of my
discovery, and to get my breakfast. Roland Belloc met me in the
courtyard, and held up a warning finger.
"You are in disgrace, my friend," said he, gravely; "the Cardinal has
been waiting for you a long time. He has sent out repeatedly in the
last hour to ask if you had returned."
"He will forgive the delay--I have discovered something of importance."
Dressed in his ceremonial robes, the Cardinal sat at the table, with an
ominous frown on his face.
"The letter!" he cried impatiently, directly on my entrance. "Where is
Martin's list? By my faith, M. de Lalande, you do well to keep Her
Majesty waiting a whole hour!" and he took the paper from my hand
somewhat ungraciously.
The letter apparently contained good news, and the Cardinal, smiling
almost joyously, rose to leave the room.
"One moment, my Lord," I observed, "I have something to tell you which
may be important."
"It must stay till after the audience; I cannot keep the Queen waiting
longer. I shall return in an hour or two. Meanwhile Bernouin will see
that you obtain some breakfast," and he summoned his secretary.
"M. de Lalande has not breakfasted," said he. "I leave him in your
charge. Meanwhile I can see no one. Do you understand?"
Bernouin, a man of few words, responded by a low bow.
After partaking of a hearty breakfast, I lay down upon a couch, and,
being thoroughly tired, fell fast asleep, not waking again till towards
the middle of the afternoon, when Bernouin came to say the Cardinal
awaited me.
Jumping up, I followed the secretary, not wishing to receive a further
reproof from the minister. Pausing at the door, Bernouin gave a
discreet tap, which was answered by Mazarin.
"M. de Lalande," announced the secretary, and at a sign from the
Cardinal withdrew.
Mazarin was writing, but, laying down his pen, he motioned me to a seat
opposite him.
"You have breakfasted, have you not?" he asked.
"Yes, my Lord, thank you," I replied.
He smiled affably, and was plainly in good humour--the result perhaps
of his morning's work. Suddenly this mood changed, the frown came back
to his face, and he exclaimed sternly, "I had almost forgotten. Why
were you so long on your errand this morning?"
"That is what I wished to speak of, your Eminence, but I am confident
you will agree that I acted rightly."
"I dislike putting the cart before the horse," said he; "the verdict
should follow the evidence. It will be better for you to relate the
story first."
Picking up his pen again, he sat twisting it between his fingers, but
looking me straight in the face, and listening intently to every word.
He did not once attempt to interrupt, but preserved his patience until
the end.
"Chut! my dear Martin," said he, when I had finished, just as if the
astrologer were present; "we were mistaken. This young provincial has
eyes in his head after all. M. de Lalande, not a word, not a syllable
of this to any one. Should you babble, the Bastille is not so full but
that it can accommodate another tenant. Now, let us go through the
story again. As you rightly observe, it is most interesting, quite
like a romance. These men were in the house; of that you are sure?"
I bowed.
"Very good. And our friend Martin denied having seen them?"
"He declared I was his first visitor this morning."
"You did not press the point?"
"Not at all, my Lord. I considered it better to admit my mistake, and
to allow the subject to drop."
"In that you did well. You are really learning fast, and I shall find
you of service yet. Now let us proceed. You saw the two men again,
but they did not come out of Martin's house. Are you certain about
that?"
"I did not once remove my eyes from the door, and it was closed the
whole time."
"Then you cannot account for the reappearance of these visitors?"
I shook my head.
"If my explanation is correct, it throws a light on several queer
things," said Mazarin smiling. "However, that part of the business can
stand over, I am not in a hurry at present. Now as to these cloaked
gentlemen! Did you recognise them?"
"Only my cousin Henri."
"Ah, he is a clever fellow, a trifle too clever perhaps. Now describe
his companion to me again."
"A little man, your Eminence, dark and ugly. An ill-made, awkward,
bow-legged fellow, looking the more ungainly because of his handsome
apparel."
"The description is not a flattering one!" laughed the Cardinal. "This
ugly little man of yours is no less a person than Jean Paul de Gondi,
Abbe de Retz, Coadjutor of Paris, Archbishop of Corinth, a future
Cardinal--so it is rumoured--and the man who is to fill Mazarin's
office when that unworthy minister has lost his head."
Dipping his pen in the ink, he wrote an order and handed it to me.
"For M. Belloc," he said. "In a few hours we shall discover what your
information is worth, but, whatever the result, you have done your part
well."
Rising from the chair, I bowed and left the room, rather puffed up by
the Cardinal's praise; but disappointed at not having learned the
nature of the secret which I had unearthed.
Was it possible that Martin had been playing a double game? It
appeared very much like it, and, according to all accounts, De Retz
paid his servants in good money, while those who served the Cardinal
were generally rewarded by empty promises.
Finding Belloc, I handed him the paper, at which he glanced quickly,
and exclaimed, "More work, my boy, and to be done at once. The
Cardinal's orders are all marked 'Immediate,'" and he went off with a
good-humoured laugh.
As there was nothing more to detain me at the Palace I returned to my
rooms in the Rue des Catonnes, and, having made myself ready, sat down
by the casement to watch for Raoul. The street was very still and
peaceful that evening, and, while waiting for my friend, my thoughts
roamed over the incidents of the day. As to my own discovery, it did
not engage my attention long. I had done my duty in warning Mazarin,
and for the rest he must look to himself.
One point, however, caused me a considerable amount of anxiety. The
Cardinal had spoken of Madame Coutance, and in no pleasant way. I knew
very little of the lady, but, as I have said, it vexed me that her
niece's safety should be to some extent in the hands of such a
hare-brained conspirator.
"She will be doing an extra foolish thing some day," I said to myself,
half asleep and half awake, "and the Cardinal will clap both her and
Marie into the Bastille. I must warn Raoul; he may have some influence
over her."
"Over whom?" exclaimed a merry voice, and, opening my eyes, I beheld
Raoul himself standing close to me.
"A good thing for you that the truce still holds," cried he gaily, "or
I could easily have deprived Mazarin of a supporter."
He laughed again quite merrily, and I laughed too; the idea of Raoul
raising a hand against me seemed so ridiculous.
"Sit down a minute," I said, "while I explain. The affair is not a
secret," and I repeated Mazarin't remarks to him.
"You are right, Albert," he exclaimed gravely; "this is a serious
matter, but unfortunately I can do nothing. Madame Coutance grows more
reckless every day, and at present is using all her influence to assist
De Retz. To-morrow perhaps she will join Conde's party, for any side
opposed to Mazarin is good enough for her."
"Does Marie side with her aunt?"
"She cannot help herself, though she has no liking for intrigue. But
come, let us take a turn in the city; it will blow the cobwebs out of
our brains."
We had reached the Pont Neuf when a gaily dressed gallant, calling to
Raoul, caused us to stop.
"Armand!" exclaimed my comrade in surprise. "I understood you had gone
to the Louvre!"
"Are you not ashamed to be caught plotting with a _Mazarin_?"
"Ah! I forgot that you knew M. de Lalande!"
"Oh, yes," said I, "this gentleman and I are warm friends. He shows me
to my inn, comes to my rooms, and invites me to go with him on his
parties of pleasure."
Laughing lightheartedly, young D'Arcy took my arm.
"You rascal!" he cried, "it is fortunate we are at peace, or I should
have to run you through for the honour of the Fronde. You made us the
laughing-stock of Paris."
I inquired if he had released the prisoner at the inn, on which he gave
us such a comical account of the dwarf's unhappy plight that we could
not keep from laughing aloud.
"Who was he?" asked Raoul.
"Pillot the dwarf, the trusty henchman of De Retz."
"That is awkward for you," said Raoul turning to me. "Pillot is a
cunning rogue, and is now hand in glove with your cousin. Really,
Albert, you must take care of yourself, you have raised up a host of
enemies already."
"And the Italian cannot save you!" remarked D'Arcy, with a superior
air; "his own downfall is at hand. Alas, my poor friend, I pity you."
We were still laughing at him when he suddenly exclaimed, "Ah, here is
Lautrec. Tell me, is he not a show picture? I feel almost tempted to
change sides, if only to deck myself out so gorgeously."