A Scheme that Went Amiss
Paris seemed much as usual. The streets were filled with noisy bands
of turbulent people, but there were fewer cries of "Down with Mazarin!"
the mob contenting itself with cheering for Conde and De Retz, though
several times I heard the Prince's name uttered with every sign of
anger and disapproval.
Fortunately my former rooms were still vacant, so, having stabled my
horse at the inn two doors below, I took possession, and soon had the
satisfaction of sitting down to an ample supper.
"Monsieur has been long away," remarked the landlord on coming to
remove the things.
"I have been in the country for the benefit of my health," I replied
carelessly. "Affairs have changed since I was here last."
"Ah, yes! The Cardinal has fled, and Conde will be master now. The
stupid Fronde is done with, monsieur, and we are all brothers together."
"And the Queen?" I asked curiously, "does she approve of all these
changes?"
"She is delighted, monsieur. There will be no rough places or crooked
paths for her any more; the prince is so powerful that no one dares to
attack her," and the honest fellow departed, smiling with pleasure at
the prospect of peace.
Early the next morning I walked across to the Palais Royal, wondering
what was best to be done, when, to my lively joy, I found that Belloc
still held a command there. I gave my name to the officer on duty, and
was immediately admitted to the old soldier's quarters. He was sitting
in his room, looking harassed and worn, which rather surprised me,
because as a rule nothing troubled him. He greeted me kindly, and as
we sat chatting I thought he was trying to make up his mind on some
knotty point.
"Were you in the city last night?" he asked presently.
"Yes! The people are wild with delight at the idea of seeing Conde."
Casting an anxious glance round the room, he said in a low voice, "Come
nearer, Albert, I am going to reveal a secret. First of all, the
Prince is still in prison, and if all goes well this evening he will
stay there. You are a brave lad, and honest, and I think you can help
me."
"I will do my best," said I, flushing with pleasure at his praise.
"The adventure is dangerous, and it worries me, not for myself but for
others. If it succeeds, the Cardinal will be stronger than ever; if it
fails----" and he finished with a shrug of his shoulders.
"You may count on me."
"Yes, I am sure of it. Well, this is what we intend to do. At present
the Queen has few friends in Paris, but the country will fight for the
King. Now, the plan is to smuggle them out of the city, when they will
join the Cardinal, and take up arms for the freedom of the throne.
Without Conde, the rest will be able to accomplish nothing."
"A good plan," said I, "and the sooner it is carried out the better."
"If all goes well, to-morrow morning will find us far away from Paris.
Everything is ready, but I cannot trust the Queen's coachman. He is an
honest fellow enough, but timid, and likely to lose his head at the
first sign of danger. Do you think you can drive the coach safely?"
"Let me choose my horses!"
"You can have the pick of the royal stables. But, mind you, Albert,
this is no child's play. If the mob gets wind of the affair there will
be a terrible struggle. I shall not think the worse of you if you
decide to leave the business alone."
"I will undertake it, old friend, but you must supply me with a
coachman's dress."
"That can be obtained easily; there are plenty for sale in the city,
and I will send a trusty fellow to buy one which will fit you."
He left the room, hinting it would be better that I should not show
myself, and leaving me in a high state of excitement to ponder over the
coming venture. It was a risky one, but I was young and hot-headed,
and did not fully realise the danger.
The old soldier returned about noon, bringing my fresh clothes with
him, and I put them on. Then he browned my face and hands with some
colouring matter, and I was transformed into a very fair specimen of a
coachman.
"_Parbleu!_" cried he, rubbing his hands, "you will do famously. Now I
will take you to the stables; choose your horses; have them ready, and
bring them round to Mazarin's private entrance at six o'clock
precisely. You have your pistols? Right. I don't know about your
sword, but perhaps it will be useful. I will have it placed on the
seat of the coach. First of all, though, you must have something to
eat, and I will serve you myself; it is doubtful which of the servants
can be trusted."
During the meal he repeated his instructions, and it was plain that the
terrible responsibility had made him extremely anxious.
"Mind," said he, as we rose at length to leave the room, "from this
moment your life is no longer your own. You must sacrifice it, if need
be, for the Queen."
"I am willing to do that, monsieur, though I hope there will be no
occasion."
Passing along the corridor, and descending a flight of steps, we
reached a part of the palace which I had not visited before, and were
met by M. Corveau, who was really in command of the stables, though
most of the fees went to a much more distinguished person.
M. Belloc introduced us to each other, and with a last whispered word
of advice returned to his duties. I accompanied my new acquaintance to
the stables, and after some delay chose two animals for the work in
hand.
"You evidently know something of horseflesh," said Corveau, smiling,
"but these are rather difficult to drive; they are too spirited."
"They will make it the more awkward for any one who happens to get in
their way."
"True; but are you strong enough in the wrists to hold them?"
"I believe I can manage it."
"Well," he said, "I wish you good luck," but his tone clearly showed
that he did not expect it.
However, it was useless being alarmed; so, putting a bold face on the
matter, I made friends with the horses, fed and watered them myself,
and spent all the afternoon with them. A quarter before six I had them
put to, and, mounting the box, drove the carriage--a private one
borrowed for the occasion--slowly round to the appointed place. It
still wanted a few minutes to six when the bells of the city churches
clanged forth in thunderous peals, and, though ignorant of the cause, I
felt somewhat alarmed.
"That will be awkward for our plan," I muttered. "There is a tumult of
some sort going on, and the streets will be crowded. So much the worse
for us."
Five minutes passed, but no one had opened the door of the Palace;
another five minutes slipped away and the animals were growing
restless, when suddenly Belloc himself appeared. One glance at his
face was sufficient to tell me that something had gone amiss.
"Get your weapons," he cried, "send the horses back to the stables, and
come inside."
As soon as I had joined him, he fastened the door, and led the way
upstairs.
"What has happened?" I asked, feeling strangely bewildered.
"Treachery," said he sternly; "we have been betrayed. Orleans has
seized the gates, and the streets are filled with a shouting mob.
Change your dress quickly, we shall need every sword."
"But the mob will not dare----"
"_Peste!_ the mob will dare anything! De Retz has called the people to
arms, and presently they will attack the Palace. Paris will swim in
blood before morning."
"But De Retz will prevent the _canaille_ from going too far."
"Bah! you speak like a boy! Once they are roused, De Retz can no more
hold them back than he can fondle a starving tigress without being
bitten. Make haste and come to me."
By the time I had cleansed the stain from my hands and face, and
resumed my ordinary apparel, every one in the Palace was aware of the
terrible danger. Trembling servants went about with white faces;
high-born cavaliers lined the corridors leading to the royal
apartments; officers silently posted their men; everything was made
ready for a fierce struggle.
"No surrender!" was the cry from every fighting man. "Let us die where
we stand."
Gradually the noise and tumult outside came nearer; we could hear the
tramp of marching feet and the savage shouts of the populace clamouring
to see the King. Choosing the post of danger, M. Belloc had stationed
himself with a few trusty soldiers near the main entrance, where I
joined him. The veteran was fuming with impatience; he only awaited an
order from the Palace to sally forth upon the advancing multitude.
"The King!" roared the excited mob; "where is the King? show us the
King!" and our leader glanced at me as if to say, "I told you the plot
had been betrayed."
Meanwhile the Queen and her attendants, working hard, had restored the
Palace to its usual appearance; Louis was in bed, sleeping soundly, and
all traces of the intended flight had been removed.
Presently a note was brought from the Queen to Belloc, who, reading it
hastily, told the messenger to inform her Majesty that her commands
should be obeyed; then turning to us, he added that no one was to fire
a shot until he himself gave the signal.
"Her Majesty," he explained, "hopes no blood will be shed, but that the
mob having discovered its mistake will disperse quietly."
"A fig for the mob!" said a grim-looking trooper to a comrade; "let our
leader give the word and we will soon clear the courtyard."
"Here comes an officer," said another; "he is wearing the Orleans
colours. What does he want?"
"Bah!" cried a third trooper, who spoke with a strange accent, "this
isn't the way to quell a riot. My old master lost his head through not
knowing how to deal with rebels. The block for the leaders and a
whipping for the others would soon teach them their manners."
The words and the accent made me look at the speaker more closely. He
was a young fellow with fair hair and blue eyes like D'Arcy, but he was
built more stoutly and looked stronger altogether. His name, I learned
afterwards, was John Humphreys, and he was the son of an English
gentleman who had lost his estates through fighting for his King,
Charles I. At the moment, however, I could not think much of this
young exile, my attention being engrossed by the Orleanist officer, who
rode across the courtyard towards us.
"Raoul!" I exclaimed to myself, and drew back into the shadow, not
caring that he should notice me. He did not seem very happy, and
approached our leader as if thoroughly ashamed of his errand.
"I am Captain of the Guard to the Duke of Orleans," he explained, "and
am desired by the Duke to seek an audience with her Majesty the
Queen-Mother."
"Are those your followers?" asked Belloc scornfully, pointing to the
howling mob outside.
Raoul returned no answer, but bit his lip deeply, while the other
continued, "It is no fault of mine, M. Raoul Beauchamp, that you gain
admittance to the Palace. But for the Queen's orders I would gladly
send you back to your friends who make war so bravely--on a woman and a
boy."
"Your speech is a trifle unjust, M. Belloc," said Raoul; "I am a
soldier, and cannot question the commands of my chief. As to my own
feelings--well that is another matter," and with a studied bow he
passed into the building.
Meanwhile the mob was increasing in numbers and violence every moment,
and, as the soldiers had received orders not to fire, the courtyard was
soon filled with excited people who howled, and danced, and shouted for
the King to be produced. Two or three times I glanced anxiously at
Belloc, wondering how much longer his patience would last.
"Open the doors," cried the foremost rioters; "we will enter and see
for ourselves where the King is."
"The King is in bed!" cried M. Belloc angrily.
"Ah! at St. Germain!" shouted a fellow dressed like a street hawker,
but whose voice I recognised, "We are betrayed!"
It was very stupid to interfere, but I could not resist the chance.
"Ha! ha! friend Peleton, then for once you are on the wrong side!" I
laughed. "Generally it is you who do the betraying."
The fellow rushed at me savagely, but the young Englishman drove him
back, saying, "Down, dog! Keep with your kind! You are not wanted
with honest men."
"Peace!" cried M. Belloc angrily, for he saw, what I did not, that the
crowd was gradually working itself into a fit of passion.
Fortunately, just then the door was opened, and Raoul, coming outside,
was immediately recognised as the messenger of the Duke of Orleans.
"The King!" they yelled; "Where is he?" "Have you seen him?" "Speak
or we will pull the place down."
Raoul stood on the topmost step, and raised his hand for silence. His
face was pale, but he looked very handsome, and was evidently not in
the least afraid.
"You have been deceived," he said. "The King is within the Palace. I
have seen him; he is sound asleep. Go away quietly, or you will waken
him."
They would probably have taken his advice but for Peleton, who cried
lustily, "We are betrayed! How can we tell what is true, unless we see
for ourselves."
"Yes, yes," shouted the mob; "that is the best way; we will see the
King with our own eyes!"
Again Raoul raised his hand and spoke, telling them the King was
asleep; they would not be satisfied, but demanded loudly that they
should be admitted to the Palace. The situation was growing critical;
we stood, as it were, upon a mine, which a spark might explode at any
moment. M. Belloc's face was pale but determined; his brows were
knitted; he gazed at the mob with angry scorn.
"Give us the word, sir," said the young Englishman, "and we will
scatter them like chaff!"
This, I knew well, was mere reckless bravery; we were but a handful
compared with the multitude, and would quickly have been lost in the
human sea. Still, I liked the speaker none the less for his daring,
and more than one trooper grimly growled approval.
Raoul was white now, and the perspiration stood in beads on his
forehead. At first I did not understand why he should be afraid, but
his hurried words to our leader made the reason plain.
"Unless something is done quickly," he exclaimed, "there will be a
frightful tragedy. I will write a note to the Duke, and you shall send
it by a private way. He is the only man who can induce these people to
disperse."
"He, or De Retz," said Belloc with a sneer.
I had never seen the old warrior so angry. He was playing a part for
which he had no liking. It was not in his nature to stand quietly by
while his sovereign was insulted; his fingers strayed nervously towards
the hilt of his sword; he would have leaped for joy had his Queen sent
him permission to charge headlong at the rabble. But he realised, as
we did, that the safety of the Royal Family depended more on tact than
on brute courage, and he had just agreed to Raoul's proposal when a
note was handed him from the Palace.
"_Parbleu!_" he exclaimed savagely, having mastered its contents, "this
goes against the grain, but the Queen's commands must be obeyed. Here
is an order, monsieur, to admit a part of the _canaille_ into the
Palace! Perhaps, monsieur, you will select the sturdiest of your
ruffians for the honour."
Raoul did not resent the insult, though his face burned like fire, but
facing the angry people he spoke to them boldly.
"Citizens," cried he, in a clear ringing voice, "I have a message for
you from Her Majesty. I have told you the King is in bed and asleep,
but you are not satisfied. That you may be quite sure, the
Queen-Mother desires that a deputation shall visit the royal
apartments. Will you be content with the report of your own friends?"
"Yes, yes," shouted the mob; "let us see the King!"
"One word more," continued Raoul sternly, when the hubbub had subsided.
"I am, as you are aware, for the Duke of Orleans, and he, mind you, is
loyal to the crown."
"So are we! _Vive le roi!_"
"And I will run my sword through the first man who insults the
Queen-Mother by word or look."
I was proud of Raoul at that moment, and Belloc gripped his hand,
saying heartily, "Forgive my rough words, Beauchamp; you are made of
the right stuff after all!"
Directly the door was opened the mob pressed forward, and I called
mockingly to Peleton to come inside the Palace, but that worthy, having
finished his work, slunk away.
To relieve the pressure other doors were opened, and soon we had a
motley throng of carters, hawkers, and shopkeepers, waiting to be led
to the King's room. At a sign from Belloc I accompanied them, and for
the first time Raoul perceived me. He dared not speak just then, but
his face showed how completely he detested his errand.
After a short delay the procession was marshalled into something like
order, and I must say, in justice to our uninvited visitors, that, now
their point was gained, no one could grumble with their behaviour.
They walked softly, and spoke in whispers, and as we approached the
royal apartments every man bared his head. The soldiers were out of
sight, and the Queen-Mother was attended only by the ladies of her
household. The Lady Anne's face betrayed no sign of fear. From her
manner one would have thought she was receiving a deputation from the
crowned heads of Europe.
The King, as Raoul had declared, was in bed, and sleeping so soundly
that the tumult and confusion failed to awaken him. Very softly the
men stole past on tip-toe, and, as they gazed at the handsome boy, more
than one grimy unkempt fellow murmured, "God bless him!"
All danger was at an end, the raging tigers who had stormed in the
courtyard were changed into lambs, and the only cry to reach the
soldiers on guard at the gates was, "_Vive le roi!_" As soon as the
last man had departed, the doors of the Palace were securely fastened,
and then M. Belloc despatched me by a private way to discover what was
happening in the city. In order to avoid undue attention I threw a
plain cloak over my gaudy apparel, but there was no danger. A few
hired agitators endeavoured to stir up the tumult afresh, but the men
who had beheld the sleeping King would not give them hearing.
"The Duke has been deceived," shouted one burly ruffian. "I have been
to the Palace and seen the King asleep. The Queen does not wish to
leave Paris, I tell you!"
In this, of course, he was wrong, but his words had effect, and the mob
at that point breaking up dispersed to their homes. For two hours I
roamed about, and then, finding the streets rapidly clearing, returned
to the Palais Royal with the assurance that, for the time at least, De
Retz and his friends had failed.
"Had I my way," exclaimed Belloc wrathfully, "both De Retz and Orleans
should find lodgings in the Bastille. However, we have done our best,
and must wait events. This night's work means that Conde must be set
at liberty. A plague on it!"
"Then we may bid a long adieu to the Cardinal!"
"Don't be so sure of that, my boy. Mazarin may have a fall or two, but
he generally wins at the finish. And now, go to my room and rest; we
will have a further talk in the morning."