The King Visits Raoul.
I shall not soon forget the day the Court left Gien. Mazarin had kept
me fully employed until a late hour on the previous evening, and
directly after breakfast I went to spend a last five minutes with
Raoul. Turenne had given orders that he should be well lodged, and the
King's own surgeons had attended to dress his wounds. The news of his
gallant exploit had quickly spread abroad, and numerous luxuries had
been forwarded to the sick room from the royal table.
Happily his hurts were not serious, a gash across his sword-arm being
the worst, but he could dress himself with the assistance of Pillot,
whom I had sent to wait on him, though he had to let the right sleeve
of his tunic hang empty. Pillot had finished dressing him when I
entered, and Raoul exclaimed with a laugh, "I shall be sorry when you
go, Albert; I shall lose an admirable valet."
"We move at once," I answered, "but Pillot will remain here till you
can manage without his assistance. Is it not so, Pillot?"
"Certainly, monsieur, if M. Beauchamp permits."
"Why," exclaimed Raoul, smiling, "as to that I should be very pleased,
but how will M. de Lalande manage?"
"Look after himself," said I. "The change will do me good; I have been
growing lazy of late. Listen! What a hubbub in the street! Some one
is coming up the stairs. Run to the door, Pillot, and see who our
visitor is."
The dwarf had just crossed the room when there was a knock at the door,
and an officer high in the royal household entered.
"M. Beauchamp," said he, glancing round with a smile, "I congratulate
you on your good fortune. His most gracious Majesty is below, with
Marshal Turenne, who has sung your praises so loudly that, before
leaving Gien, His Majesty insisted on coming to visit you."
Never in all my life had I felt such a thrill of joy as at these words.
The King was coming to visit Raoul! My heart beat fast at the sound of
footsteps on the stairs, and I bubbled over with happy excitement as
the famous soldier and the royal boy made their appearance.
"M. Beauchamp," exclaimed the Marshal, "His Majesty has heard of your
brave deeds, and has done you the honour of paying you a visit before
he leaves Gien."
Raoul bowed respectfully, speaking just the words required, and acting,
in short, as a French gentleman should, who is honoured by his
monarch's approval.
[Transcriber's note: illustration missing from book]
I watched the young King closely. He was a handsome lad, and, though
not forgetting his regal dignity, he spoke from his heart with all a
high-spirited boy's emotion.
"Monsieur," said he, "to the soldier honoured by the greatest general
in Europe, a king's gift can have little value. Yet keep this in
remembrance of this day, and if ever the need should arise for your
monarch's favour, it shall prove a sure passport."
[Illustration: "Keep this in remembrance of this day."]
As he spoke he took a star set with brilliants from his own breast, and
fastened it on Raoul's.
Bowing low, my comrade spoke his thanks like a gallant knight, and then
the royal boy, flushing with pleasure at his own kindly act, and
bidding Raoul recover his strength soon, took his departure,
accompanied by the Marshal.
"Well done, Raoul!" I cried, "now your fortune is assured. That star
will carry you to the very highest position in the days to come. I
wish Humphreys had been here to share our pleasure."
"What is it?" cried a cheery voice from the door. "Do you know the
King is in the street?"
"Yes," said I, pointing to the star on Raoul's breast, "he has been
here, and that is what he has left behind."
"Hurrah!" cried the Englishman. "Bravo, Raoul! You deserve your luck
if any one does."
"I owe the honour to Marshal Turenne's considerate kindness."
"And to something else! The Marshal doesn't escort young Louis round
giving brilliants to every one who was in the battle! I suppose you
have heard we are moving again? Conde has left his army and gone to
Paris. I really believe the war will not last much longer."
"I hope not," said I heartily; "if it does, the country will be ruined
completely."
"Conde and his friends are to blame for that. But I must be off now; I
am baggage-minder-in-chief to the Court."
"It must be a terrible responsibility having to look after the ladies'
dresses," laughed Raoul.
"Don't be in too great a hurry to take the field," advised Humphreys,
as we wished him good-bye. "That is a nasty gash on the sword-arm, and
will require some time to heal. Does Pillot stay behind? Ah! I
congratulate you, Beauchamp; he is a capital nurse. See that M.
Beauchamp is quite well before he leaves, Pillot."
"Monsieur will find that I shall do my best," exclaimed the little man,
and then with a last farewell to Raoul, Humphreys and I took our
departure.
Nothing of any consequence occurred during the next fortnight. The
Court removed to St. Germain, and the army to Palisseau, but, beyond a
skirmish or two, there was no fighting. As usual, however, there were
plenty of rumours, and every man had a different story to relate of
what was going on. As to Mazarin, he spent his days, and nights too,
in writing and reading innumerable notes, and in interviewing
mysterious people.
One evening, having for a wonder no duties to perform, I strolled over
to the palace for a chat with Humphreys.
"Have you heard the latest news?" he asked, and, as I shook my head,
added laughingly, "it is not a rumour but a fact. Turenne has doubled
back on Etampes, and has shut up the bulk of the rebels there. It will
be a grand stroke if he captures the town."
"Is Conde there?"
"I think not. Most accounts state that he is still in Paris. A lucky
thing you took the ladies away; the city, according to some of the
Queen's friends who have just crept out, is in a frightful state. The
people are up in arms, and the mob is burning and plundering on all
sides."
"What is the Duke of Orleans doing?"
"Making up his mind and altering it again; he has no leisure for
anything else. Mazarin seems to have been busy lately."
"Spoiling paper! there will be soon none left in the kingdom. While
Turenne is fighting, the Cardinal is driving bargains."
"Ah!" exclaimed my comrade scornfully, "the truth is, it is every man
for himself and the country can go to the dogs."
About a week after this conversation with Humphreys, M. Belloc ordered
me to be at the Cardinal's room at four o'clock the next morning.
"Have your horse ready, and in good trim, as I believe you have a long
journey."
"Not as far as Bruhl, I hope?"
"No," said he with a smile; "I think none of us will need to return to
Bruhl in a hurry, though it is difficult to prophesy. However, see to
your horse, and then get off to bed. The Cardinal will expect you at
the very second."
By this time I was well aware of Mazarin's crotchets, and took care to
present myself at the proper time. His secretary opened the door, and
admitted me into his master's room. Whether Mazarin ever went to bed
at this period of his life I cannot say, but he always gave me the
impression that he could live without sleep. There he was at four
o'clock, in dressing gown and slippers, writing with no sign of
weariness whatever.
"Is your horse saddled, M. de Lalande?" he asked, without stopping or
taking his eyes from the paper.
"Yes, your Eminence."
"Very good. Here is a little document; put it away safely. It is for
Marshal Turenne, and it must be given to him this evening. He is at
Etampes, or rather in the neighbourhood. Do not lose the missive,
though it is less important than some you have carried."
"Do I return at once, your Eminence?"
"That will depend on Marshal Turenne. You will place yourself under
his orders. And now, a prosperous ride to you."
M. Belloc, who had placed my horse in care of a soldier, was waiting
outside. He evidently knew the nature of my errand, and, as I mounted,
wished me a quick and pleasant journey.
"The country is fairly clear," he said, "and there is not much chance
of meeting with an enemy. Still, it will be as well to keep your eyes
open."
"I will," said I, thinking of my journey to Bruhl, and of the
smooth-spoken Captain Courcy.
There was, however, little cause for alarm, the only soldiers I
encountered being King's troops. At Limours, where I intended to stop
for an hour or two, the inns were filled with them, and I found some
difficulty in getting my horse stabled. The inn at which I at length
stopped was the Golden Fleece, and even there every room was occupied.
"I am grieved," exclaimed the innkeeper, a portly man with rubicund
face, "but monsieur can have a table for his refreshment, and he will
not find the guests objectionable."
Opening a door, he ushered me into an apartment where three men sat.
Two of them were evidently in company; the third, rather to my
astonishment, was Pillot, who, glancing up at my entrance, rose to
greet me.
"You have left Gien then?" I said. "Where is M. Beauchamp?"
"In the camp before Etampes, monsieur. He has recovered from his
wounds, and has returned to his squadron. I offered to stay with him a
while longer, but he preferred that I should join you."
"When did you leave him?"
"This morning, monsieur."
As there was no need to take Pillot with me, I ordered him to remain at
the inn until my return, which would probably be the next day.
"Very well, monsieur," said he pleasantly.
As soon as my horse was sufficiently rested I resumed my journey,
telling Pillot he might expect me at any hour of the day or night. I
was sorry Raoul had left Gien, though pleased at the prospect of seeing
him at Etampes, and, but for the strangeness attending our meeting, I
should have entirely passed over the episode of this otherwise
uneventful ride.
Marshal Turenne was inspecting the position of a battery when I found
him, but he instantly opened and read the Cardinal's note.
"Hum!" said he, knitting his brows, "this is a serious matter, and
requires thought. You will remain in the camp until I am ready to
furnish his Eminence with an answer. You have friends among my
gentlemen?"
"M. Beauchamp is my chief friend, general."
"Ah! I remember you now. I saw you at Blenau and again at Gien.
Well, you cannot do better than spend an hour or two with M.
Beauchamp," and he directed one of his attendants to conduct me to
Raoul's tent.
"Albert!" exclaimed my comrade, jumping up in surprise. "How came you
here? Ah! I forgot! You are on the Cardinal's business?"
"Yes, but I met Pillot at Limours, and he told me you had rejoined your
squadron. I hope you did not leave Gien too soon?"
"No, I am quite strong again, and I could not lie there doing nothing."
Now, I do not pretend to explain his behaviour at that time, or the
mystery which followed; my readers must judge for themselves after I
have stated the facts. That something had altered my old comrade very
much was plain. He had lost his high spirits, and replied to my
sallies with only a half-hearted smile. When I rallied him on this
gloomy fit he dismissed the subject hastily, leading me to talk of John
Humphreys and what the Court was doing at St. Germain.
I had been with him an hour or a little more when an officer brought
word that Marshal Turenne desired to see M. Beauchamp immediately.
"Stay where you are, Albert, and make yourself comfortable," he
exclaimed. "It is an order for some piece of special service perhaps;
the Marshal is always planning a fresh surprise."
Left alone, I began wondering more than ever at the remarkable change
which had come over him. He was as keen as ever to perform his duties,
but the quick, bright smile, the joyous laugh, the old boyish merriment
had vanished.
"He is weak from his wounds," I thought; "he should have stayed longer
at Gien, and let Pillot nurse him. Perhaps he will throw off this
gloomy air as he gets stronger."
At the end of half-an-hour he returned, and I concluded by his manner
that the Marshal had entrusted him with some important business.
"Another expedition," I said, springing up. "Take care, Raoul, the
pitcher may go to the well once too often."
"It matters little, dear friend, but at present there is no need for
alarm. Do you know what was in that packet from the Cardinal? Conde
has won over the Duke of Lorraine, who is marching on Paris with a
large army. Turenne intends to break up his camp and attack the Duke."
"That will be awkward; we shall be placed between two fires."
"Trust to Turenne; he understands his business. A few troops will stay
here for a day or two. Meanwhile, we march light; we shall strike our
blow at Lorraine, and then the rest of our army will rejoin us."
"Leaving Conde's troops to slip out of Etampes!"
"So much the better; they will be compelled to fight in the open."
"Are you riding with the Marshal?"
"In front of him. He has selected my squadron to scour the country in
advance. It will be a change from camp life. Now, I must go; we shall
meet again soon."
"I hope so!"
"It is certain," he answered calmly, "the stars have foretold it."
I looked at him in surprise, and said, "You were not used to put your
faith in the stars, Raoul!"
"No," he answered, dreamily, "but I have learned much of late. Do you
remember the open space before the Porte St. Antoine? It is there we
shall meet. I hear the roar of cannon, the rattle of muskets, the
hoof-beats of horses, the fierce shouts of struggling men. I see----
Ah well, dear friend, it is not long to wait!"
I tried to detain him, to make him speak more plainly, but he would say
nothing further, and, leaving the tent, we walked in silence to the
lines farthest from Etampes. Raoul's horsemen were already there, and
presently Turenne himself, attended by two officers, rode up. In a few
stirring words he addressed the troopers, bidding them justify his
choice, and speaking in high terms of their young leader. Then he gave
Raoul his final instructions, and my friend pressed my hand in a last
grasp.
"_Au revoir!_" said he quietly. "Remember the Porte St. Antoine!"
I stood for a while watching the weird scene as the troopers filed off
silently, and in perfect order. Raoul, who had placed himself at their
head, was soon out of sight, but I could not banish his strange words
from my mind.
"Remember the Porte St. Antoine!" What did he mean? Why had he
mentioned that particular spot as the scene of our meeting? What was
the strange vision at which he had hinted? Alas! I understood later,
but even to this day the manner of his foreknowledge remains a mystery.
"Is that M. de Lalande?"
Starting from my dream, I found it was Marshal Turenne who addressed
me, and saluting, I answered his question.
"Come to me at daybreak," he said; "I wish to send a letter by you to
Cardinal Mazarin," and he galloped off, the two officers following.
Returning to Raoul's tent--for the troopers had left every thing
standing--I lay down, and tried, though unsuccessfully, to sleep. My
comrade's mysterious speech haunted me; I could make nothing of it, and
it was with a feeling of relief that I saw the day open. Having
groomed and fed my horse, I went to the Marshal's tent. The famous
soldier had the note written, but he made me stay while his servant
prepared a simple breakfast, to which we both sat down. Then, sending
a man for my horse, he wished me a safe journey, and I rode from the
camp as the troops began to stir.
Pillot was waiting for me at Etampes, and I questioned him closely
concerning Raoul.
"It is true that M. Beauchamp has changed much," said he; "I noticed it
at Gien."
"Was there any reason for it?"
"Ah, monsieur, it is hard to tell. For a week after you left Gien, M.
Beauchamp was bright and cheerful as usual, and planning great things
for you and himself. Then, one evening, on going to his room, I found
him lying down, fully dressed. He seemed to be asleep."
"Seemed to be?" I interrupted crossly, "could you not make sure?"
"He did not hear me, monsieur, and he did not answer when I spoke, but
his eyes were open and bright. Presently, as I stood in a corner of
the room, he began talking as if to some person. Then suddenly he
sprang up, his face was white, and his eyes stared as if they had seen
something dreadful, and he trembled all over. I called his name, and
he glanced round in a frightened way as if surprised to find himself in
a room."
"Did he make any remark?"
"He said he had been dreaming, and made me take him into the street to
clear the cobwebs from his brain. I think the same dream came again
afterwards, but he would not speak of it, though once I heard him
mutter to himself, 'It was the Porte St. Antoine!'"
"The Porte St. Antoine?" I cried, more astonished than ever; "that is
where he declared I should meet him next!"
"There are many strange things for which we cannot account, monsieur!"
exclaimed Pillot--a remark which, though true enough, gave me small
comfort.
The little man did his best to cheer me, but it was a dreary ride
notwithstanding, and he must have been glad when towards evening we
reached St. Germain. Having given Mazarin the Marshal's note, and
finding the time at my own disposal, I went to seek Humphreys.
"Well, my friend, so you have returned," exclaimed the jovial
Englishman. "You look tired and troubled. Is anything wrong?"
"I have seen Raoul."
"That should not have depressed you! So he is back with the army? I
thought he would not stay quiet long."
"It is on Raoul's account I am uneasy," I replied, and without more
ado, described the change that had come over him, and repeated his
mysterious words.
"A bagatelle!" declared Humphreys, "a mere trifle! He has been moping,
and has got queer fancies into his head; sick people often do. Think
no more of it, that is my advice; in a week he will be laughing at his
dreams. The jingle of spurs and the blare of trumpets will soon drive
away those notions."
"I am not so certain of that, my friend. Besides, he is not suffering
from his wound now; he has recovered his strength."
"Of body, I grant you; and when his mind becomes clearer, these
whimseys will vanish like ghosts at cock-crow."
The Englishman seemed so sure, and spoke so confidently, that while in
his company I felt half inclined to smile at my childish ideas; but
later, in the solitude of my own room, they did not appear so childish.
The notion that Raoul was in some danger had disturbed my brain, and
several times during the night I awoke with a start, fancying I heard
him call my name.