I Meet with an Exciting Adventure.
About nine o'clock we came to a country inn where I decided to halt,
and the troopers, well pleased at the prospect of refreshment,
proceeded to stable the horses, while the hostess showed madame and her
niece into the best room of the house. The arrival of such a large
party caused some consternation, but the host and his servants bustled
about cheerfully, and the soldiers were soon sitting down to a rough
but abundant meal.
Having seen them satisfactorily settled, I was debating whether to
intrude myself on the ladies or not, when the innkeeper informed me
that they desired to see me. Accordingly, after speaking a word to the
sergeant, I went upstairs, and entered the room where they sat at table.
Madame Coutance, who shortly before had sulked like a spoiled child,
had now regained her good humour, and received me with smiles.
"Come, Sir Gaoler, it is not polite to keep your guests waiting," she
exclaimed, and I excused myself on the ground of being uncertain
whether my presence would be agreeable.
"Certainly! we require you as a taster. The Duke of Beaufort was
allowed one at Vincennes, and you would not count him of more
consequence than two ladies?"
"I' faith!" I exclaimed, glancing at the viands, "if I am to play that
part, there will be little for those who come after me. The night's
ride has given me a wolf's appetite!"
"In that case," said Marie laughing, "we will be our own tasters. Sit
down, Albert, and let us begin."
For some reason best known to herself, or perhaps for no reason at all,
Madame Coutance had become reconciled to the situation. I was received
into favour again. We laughed and joked merrily, and resumed the
journey in the best of good humour. The leathern coverings were
fastened back, and I rode beside the open carriage more as an attendant
cavalier than as the officer of an escort. This was far more agreeable
to me, though I found it rather awkward to answer some of the questions
which madame asked concerning the Cardinal.
"It is a pity the plot was discovered," she said; "in a day or two at
the outside Mazarin would have been lost."
"Conde is still in prison," I remarked meaningly.
"He will soon be free. The people are rising, and Mazarin will not
dare to keep him in captivity. Ah, my friend, the tables will be
turned then!"
"I wish these useless squabbles were at an end," said Marie.
"Have patience, child," exclaimed her aunt, "all will come right in
time," and, turning to me, she added, "how long am I expected to remain
at Aunay?"
"The Cardinal mentioned a month or two."
"Good faith!" she exclaimed with a toss of her head, "the Cardinal will
be over the borders before then!"
"It may be so," I admitted, not anxious to dispute the point.
We were still several miles from Aunay, when the sergeant, who rode
with two men in the rear, trotted forward briskly, and reining up my
horse, I waited for the soldier to speak.
"Are we likely to be pursued, monsieur?" asked he.
"It is just possible. Why?"
"Because there are a score of horsemen on our track. Pierre, who has
keen sight, declares they are cavaliers, young bloods most likely, from
Paris."
In a few minutes they came within sight, and, as they approached more
closely, I recognised that Pierre's description was correct. They
certainly were not ordinary soldiers, and the only doubt remaining was
whether they were friends or foes.
The grizzled sergeant decided the question for me.
"Frondeurs, monsieur," he announced with the utmost coolness.
"Then they intend to rescue our prisoners. Can we throw them off?"
"We can try, monsieur, but they will probably overtake us in ten
minutes."
"Then we must fight, though the odds are terribly against us."
"As monsieur pleases; we have only to obey orders," and without another
word he recalled the soldiers who were in advance.
"What is it?" cried Madame Coutance, excitedly, as I returned to the
carriage, "what has happened?"
"Nothing as yet," I answered smiling; "but some of your party have
followed us from Paris. For what purpose I leave you to guess."
She clapped her hands and laughed like a child; it just suited her to
be the central figure in any kind of adventure.
"A rescue!" she cried. "Marie, do you hear? Our brave cavaliers think
we are being dragged to prison, and have come to rescue us. Ah, the
fine fellows! How vexed Mazarin will be! Perhaps he imagined I had no
friends!"
"Their folly can only do harm, madame," I replied.
"Chut! what absurdity! It is a rich joke, and Scarron shall make a
song about it. How they will laugh when I explain that we are going to
Aunay and not to prison!"
During this conversation Marie, had remained silent, but now in a low
voice she asked, "Are there many, Albert?"
"A score, perhaps," I replied; "but do not be alarmed. As your aunt
says, they will probably regard the venture as a rich joke. Now I must
go to my men," and I ordered the coachman to drive on rapidly.
The six troopers rode three abreast behind the coach, which rattled
along swiftly, while the sergeant and I followed. Each instant brought
our pursuers nearer, and it soon became evident that they were able to
ride us down.
"Pardon, monsieur," said the sergeant, "but if there is to be a fight
we had better get it over. At present we are only spoiling our horses."
"True," I replied, and called on the troopers to halt.
The cavaliers were advancing at a gallop. Foremost of the throng rode
my cousin Henri and Baron Maubranne, while close in their rear pressed
Peleton, and half a dozen horsemen with whose features I was
unacquainted. Behind these again came several men whom I had met at
Perret's--Armand d'Arcy, Lautrec, and finally, Raoul.
The sword trembled in my hand, and my heart sank on recognising Raoul.
How could I fight against the staunch comrade who had always been
dearer to me than a brother? It was impossible. For the sake of our
friendship I must endeavour to avert a struggle.
The Frondeurs, I gladly believe, would have listened to reason but for
Peleton and Baron Maubranne, who, with raised swords, rushed at me,
yelling "Down with the _Mazarin_!"
In self-defence I was compelled to parry their blows, and Peleton,
lunging rather wildly, received the point of my sword in his chest. At
this the cavaliers, headed by Maubranne, charged us in a body, but my
troopers withstood the shock manfully, and the baron rolled to the
ground.
At the first clash of swords all thoughts of peace took wing; the
intoxication of the fight got into our blood, and made us reckless.
Spurring into the throng, I called on my men, who attacked with such
zest that the cavaliers began to give way.
Henri, however, quickly rallied them; the fight was renewed with
increased fury, and the air was filled with the clatter of steel and
the shouts of the combatants.
[Illustration: "The air was filled with the clatter of steel."]
The old sergeant had not praised his men without cause. They were
seasoned soldiers, hard and tough as iron, and without the least sense
of fear. Fighting was their trade, and they were masters of the craft.
As for myself, I could ride, and handle a sword, but this was my first
experience of a fight. I forgot the lessons in sword-play my father
had taught me, and struck out wildly, hitting right and left. I saw
D'Arcy's smiling face go down before me, felt Lautrec's sword pierce my
arm, and then came directly in front of Raoul.
As it chanced I was able to stay my hand at the very moment of
striking, but Raoul, poor lad, had not the same good fortune, and, just
as I lowered my weapon, his sword passed through my body. I am an old
man now, but I can still see the look of horror on his face, and hear
his cry of anguish. I remember smiling at him feebly and trying to
speak; then the fading daylight vanished, and with the darkness came
unconsciousness.
The next thing I can remember was Raoul asking some one if I should
die. Not being able to see him I stretched out my hand, and he,
bending over me, spoke my name softly.
"My men?" I whispered faintly.
"They are all living! Do you know who I am?"
"Yes. Raoul."
"If you do not go away, M. Beauchamp, you will kill my patient."
This was said in a voice soft and sweet as a child's, and I concluded
the speaker was a doctor. Raoul made some reply, but I could not
understand his words, and gradually my sense of hearing failed
altogether. For weeks I lay hovering between life and death, and when
at length I was able to look about me and realise something of what
went on, I was painfully weak and helpless.
Thrice every day there came into my room a tall, grave, white-bearded
man, who sometimes smiled kindly, but more often shook his head in a
sorrowful manner. And always, throughout the day and night, there sat
by my bedside a grief-stricken youth who tended me with the utmost
care. This youth, so sad and melancholy, was Raoul, but Raoul so
altered as to be scarcely recognisable. For hours he would sit
motionless as a statue, then, rising gently, he would give me the
medicine according to the doctor's orders, or smooth the tumbled pillow
which I was helpless to re-arrange for myself.
One morning, waking after a long sleep, I felt considerably better. My
comrade sat as usual beside the bed, but, wearied by the night watch,
his head had sunk on his breast, and he had fallen asleep. I half
turned to look at him more closely, but at the first movement he
started up wide awake.
"Raoul!" I whispered.
"Albert!"
"It is all right, old friend; I shall get on now."
Grasping my hand, which lay outside the coverlet, he pressed it gently,
and, kneeling down, gave thanks to God for this first step in my
recovery.
"Amen to that," said I. "And now, my dear Raoul, tell me the news.
Remember that I am ignorant of everything."
"First let me hear you say that you forgive me."
"Forgive you, old comrade? _Peste!_ there is nothing to forgive. Is
it your fault that I am the less skilful hand with the sword?"
"That is nonsense," he replied slowly. "You could have killed me, but
you refused to strike."
"Friendship stayed my arm in time."
"But not mine!"
"Then after all I am the more skilful swordsman!"
"I nearly killed you," he said, and his lip quivered.
"But not quite. Let us forget all about it."
From that morning I began to regain strength, and could soon converse
with Raoul without fatigue. From him I learned that the safety of the
troopers was due to Marie, who, leaving the carriage, and running to
the scene of the fight, had called upon the Frondeurs to sheathe their
swords.
"Two of your men were wounded, though not seriously," said Raoul;
"young D'Arcy received a nasty cut; Maubranne was picked up insensible,
and Peleton will not forget you for some time."
"But for him and Maubranne, there need not have been a fight."
"They have a spite against you, and will make mischief if they can."
"Never mind them. What became of the escort?"
"The wounded men were taken to the inn; the others returned to Paris.
Madame Coutance insisted on your being brought to Aunay, and here you
have remained ever since."
"Then really," I said, when Raoul gave me this information, "you have
all done your best to fulfil Mazarin's orders!"
"It was a mistake. We believed the ladies were to be imprisoned at
Reuil, and, besides, it was possible that Madame Coutance had
possession of a valuable document."
"You should have searched the Palais Royal for that," I remarked with a
laugh.
"You have spoiled our scheme for a time. Your cousin did the Fronde an
ill turn when he advised you to go to Paris; you have proved a thorn in
our side from the very first day."
I asked after D'Arcy, and found that he had returned with his friends
to the capital, where new and startling plots were being hatched.
"Without a doubt we shall crush the Cardinal this time," exclaimed my
comrade, whose good spirits revived with my increasing strength. "He
will miss his trusty henchman, and there is really no one of importance
on his side."
"Then De Retz has not received his red hat?"
"No! Mazarin played him a fine trick over that, and set all Paris
laughing for weeks. The little abbe is desperately angry, and intends
taking ample vengeance."
"How Marie's aunt must wish she were back in the Rue Crillon!"
"She has vowed not to leave Aunay till you have recovered. The doctor
declares you owe your life to her and Marie, who nursed you during the
first fortnight. By the way, your doublet was spoiled; so I sent for
another; you shall put it on in the morning."
"To go downstairs?'
"If you can persuade the doctor to grant you permission. And now try
to sleep, or you will be ill again."
The doctor appeared rather reluctant next morning to give his consent,
but I begged so hard that at last he yielded, and Raoul helped me to
dress. Then, leaning on the arm of my comrade, and partly supported by
the medical man, I made my way to the drawing-room, where the ladies
gave me a hearty welcome. The disagreeable part I had played in
carrying out Mazarin's orders was forgotten; Madame Coutance could talk
only about the fight, and her niece about my wounds.
"Between you all," I said, "you have saved my life."
"Next to God you have the doctor and Raoul to thank," remarked Marie.
"Raoul certainly," exclaimed her aunt laughing. "But for his sword-cut
in the first place we could not have nursed you at all."
"It was, indeed, very kind of you," I replied, ignoring the first part
of her speech, "especially as I am in the pay of the hated Mazarin."
"That is nothing, absolutely nothing. We are winning, and can afford
to be generous. The Cardinal stands on the edge of a mine which will
shortly explode. De Retz and your cousin Henri have made things
certain this time; there will be no more mistakes."
There was something in her speech and manner which made me wonder why
she was so bitter against the Cardinal. My recent adventures had
taught me valuable lessons, and I knew that many of those who talked so
loudly of liberty and justice had their own private schemes to advance
at the expense of the public welfare; and I was half-inclined to think
that Marie's aunt was a Frondeuse of this description. However, she
was very kind to me, and I still look back on those early days of my
recovery with a certain amount of pleasure.
From the date of my leaving home I had lived at high pressure, in a
maze of intrigue and strife. My wits, such as they were, had ever been
employed; my life had been in danger a score of times. The calm which
followed this incessant scheming and fighting was delicious, and I did
not feel very sorry that Raoul had given me a dig with his sword.
Though sorely needed by his patron, he refused to leave Aunay as long
as I was in the slightest danger; the ladies treated me like a brother,
while the doctor spared neither time nor trouble to bring about the
restoration of my health. It was new to me to be thus petted, and I
thoroughly enjoyed it.
Madame would not hear of my going home.
"That would be a fine thing indeed!" she exclaimed banteringly. "I
mean to claim the credit of your recovery. But as soon as your
strength returns you shall write, and I will provide a messenger to
deliver your letter."
"My mother will be anxious," I said. "No doubt Belloc has told her
something of what has happened."
"Make yourself easy on that head," exclaimed Raoul. "I thought of
that, and sent D'Arcy to caution him. He will only mention that you
have met with a slight accident."
This was very thoughtful as well as kind of my comrade, and I thanked
him heartily.
Three weeks after my first coming downstairs, he took his departure for
the capital. His patron had already sent him several urgent messages,
and now that the doctor had pronounced me out of danger he felt it his
duty to go.
"We are nearing the end," said he; "and the Duke has need of all his
friends. Mazarin may make a desperate effort, but I prophesy that by
the time you are well he will be dead or banished."
"In either case Paris will be no place for me, and I shall return to
the farm."
"Not at all," he answered earnestly. "I shall speak to the Duke, and
he will take you into his service."
Unwilling to vex him, I let the subject drop, though not having the
slightest intention of joining the Cardinal's enemies. So I hobbled
into the courtyard to witness his departure, and echoed his farewell,
"Till we meet again," as he passed through the gateway.
At first I missed him a great deal, but each succeeding day increased
my strength; I was able to walk alone, and altogether felt very
comfortable. Either by myself or accompanied by the ladies I took the
air on the terrace, or, wandering through the charming grounds,
strolled by the margin of the silvery stream skirting the chateau.
The bitter strife of clashing interests, the tumult and horrors of the
capital, did not extend to this peaceful spot; it might have been the
heart of another country. The peasants were courteous and respectful,
toiling patiently like oxen in yoke. As yet they had not learned their
power, and the noble was still a master to be obeyed without murmur or
complaint. Much to her aunt's annoyance, Marie went among them,
smiling pleasantly, speaking kind words, bearing help to the
distressed, soothing the sick, and treating them all, in fact, like
human beings. At Aunay she was really happy, and her face wore an
expression of content which one never saw in Paris.
"I could wish to live in the country always," she remarked once, "it is
so peaceful after noisy, brawling Paris."
So the days glided by till there came to us in the chateau strange
echoes of the outside world. The wildest rumours were repeated by the
gentry of the neighbouring estates. One day we heard Conde was
marching on Paris with ten thousand soldiers; the next that he had been
poisoned in his cell at Havre. Some asserted that Mazarin, having made
peace with De Retz, had triumphed over all his enemies, others that
Orleans had hanged the Cardinal out of hand.
These tales agitated Madame Coutance, and I knew she longed to be back
in the midst of the storm. While I remained at Aunay this was
impossible, but, in spite of her desire, she would not let me depart.
"You will become a vegetable at Vancey," she said, "and I want to push
your fortunes. Mazarin must soon be beaten, and you shall join the
great prince. I have influence with him, and will use it."
Thanking her warmly, I pointed out that, having pledged my word to
Mazarin, I could not accept the prince's favours.
"Bah!" she exclaimed, "no one can help a fallen favourite!"
"Then there is the Queen-Mother; I cannot range myself among her
enemies."
"You are very simple," said madame smiling. "Anne of Austria has no
enemies; we all bow to her and the little King. Conde is her chief
friend," and with that she went away, leaving me to think over the
matter.