THE KING'S FACE.
It seemed so necessary to bring home the crime to Bruhl should the
priest really perish in the trap laid for me, that I came near to
falling into one of those mistakes to which men of action are prone.
For my first impulse was to follow the priest to the Parvis, closely
enough, if possible, to detect the assassins in the act, and with
sufficient force, if I could muster it, to arrest them. The credit of
dissuading me from this course lies with Simon, who pointed out its
dangers in so convincing a manner that I was brought with little
difficulty to relinquish it.
Instead, acting on his advice, I sent him to M. d'Agen's lodging, to
beg that young gentleman to call upon me before evening. After
searching the lodging and other places in vain, Simon found M. d'Agen
in the tennis-court at the Castle, and, inventing a crafty excuse,
brought him to my lodging a full hour before the time.
My visitor was naturally surprised to find that I had nothing
particular to say to him. I dared not tell him what occupied my
thoughts, and for the rest invention failed me. But his gaiety and
those pretty affectations on which he spent an infinity of pains, for
the purpose, apparently, of hiding the sterling worth of a character
deficient neither in courage nor backbone, were united to much good
nature. Believing at last that I had sent for him in a fit of the
vapours, he devoted himself to amusing me and abusing Bruhl--a very
favourite pastime with him. And in this way he made out a call of two
hours.
I had not long to wait for proof of Simon's wisdom in taking this
precaution. We thought it prudent to keep within doors after our
guest's departure, and so passed the night in ignorance whether
anything had happened or not. But about seven next morning one of the
Marquis's servants, despatched by M. d'Agen, burst in upon us with the
news--which was no news from the moment his hurried footstep sounded
on the stairs--that Father Antoine had been set upon and killed the
previous evening!
I heard this confirmation of my hopes with grave thankfulness; Simon
with so much emotion that when the messenger was gone he sat down on a
stool and began to sob and tremble as if he had lost his mother,
instead of a mortal foe. I took advantage of the occasion to read him
a sermon on the end of crooked courses; nor could I myself recall
without a shudder the man's last words to me; or the lawless and evil
designs in which he had rejoiced, while standing on the very brink of
the pit which was to swallow up both him and them in everlasting
darkness.
Naturally, the uppermost feeling in my mind was relief. I was free
once more. In all probability the priest had kept his knowledge to
himself, and without him his agents would be powerless. Simon, it is
true, heard that the town was much excited by the event; and that many
attributed it to the Huguenots. But we did not suffer ourselves to be
depressed by this, nor had I any foreboding until the sound of a
second hurried footstep mounting the stairs reached our ears.
I knew the step in a moment for M. d'Agen's, and something ominous in
its ring brought me to my feet before he opened the door. Significant
as was his first hasty look round the room, he recovered at sight of
me all his habitual _sang-froid_. He saluted me, and spoke coolly,
though rapidly. But he panted, and I noticed in a moment that he had
lost his lisp.
'I am happy in finding you,' he said, closing the door carefully
behind him, 'for I am the bearer of ill news, and there is not a
moment to be lost. The king has signed an order for your instant
consignment to prison, M. de Marsac, and, once there, it is difficult
to say what may not happen.'
'My consignment?' I exclaimed. I may be pardoned if the news for a
moment found me unprepared.
'Yes,' he replied quickly. 'The king has signed it at the instance of
Marshal Retz.'
'But for what?' I cried in amazement.
'The murder of Father Antoine. You will pardon me,' he continued
urgently, 'but this is no time for words. The Provost-Marshal is even
now on his way to arrest you. Your only hope is to evade him, and gain
an audience of the king. I have persuaded my uncle to go with you, and
he is waiting at his lodgings. There is not a moment to be lost,
however, if you would reach the king's presence before you are
arrested.'
'But I am innocent!' I cried.
'I know it,' M. d'Agen answered, 'and can prove it. But if you cannot
get speech of the king innocence will avail you nothing. You have
powerful enemies. Come without more ado, M. de Marsac, I pray,' he
added.
His manner, even more than his words, impressed me with a sense of
urgency; and postponing for a time my own judgment, I hurriedly
thanked him for his friendly offices. Snatching up my sword, which lay
on a chair, I buckled it on; for Simon's fingers trembled so violently
he could give me no help. This done I nodded to M. d'Agen to go first,
and followed him from the room, Simon attending us of his own motion.
It would be then about eleven o'clock in the forenoon.
My companion ran down the stairs without ceremony, and so quickly it
was all I could do to keep up with him. At the outer door he signed me
to stand, and darting himself into the street, he looked anxiously in
the direction of the Rue St. Denys. Fortunately the coast was still
clear, and he beckoned to me to follow him. I did so and starting to
walk in the opposite direction as fast as we could, in less than a
minute we had put a corner between us and the house.
Our hopes of escaping unseen, however, were promptly dashed. The
house, I have said, stood in a quiet by-street, which was bounded on
the farther side by a garden-wall buttressed at intervals. We had
scarcely gone a dozen paces from my door when a man slipped from the
shelter of one of these buttresses, and after a single glance at us,
set off to run towards the Rue St. Denys.
M. d'Agen looked back and nodded. 'There goes the news,' he said.
'They will try to cut us off, but I think we have the start of them.'
I made no reply, feeling that I had resigned myself entirely into his
hands. But as we passed through the Rue de Valois, in part of which a
market was held at this hour, attracting a considerable concourse of
peasants and others, I fancied I detected signs of unusual bustle and
excitement. It seemed unlikely that news of the priest's murder should
affect so many people and to such a degree, and I asked M. d'Agen what
it meant.
'There is a rumour abroad,' he answered, without slackening speed,
'that the king intends to move south to Tours at once.'
I muttered my surprise and satisfaction. 'He will come to terms with
the Huguenots then?' I said.
'It looks like it,' M. d'Agen rejoined. 'Retz's party are in an
ill-humour on that account, and will wreak it on you if they get a
chance. On guard!' he added abruptly. 'Here are two of them!'
As he spoke we emerged from the crowd, and I saw, half a dozen paces
in front of us, and coming to meet us, a couple of Court gallants,
attended by as many servants. They espied us at the same moment, and
came across the street, which was tolerably wide at that part, with
the evident intention of stopping us. Simultaneously, however, we
crossed to take their side, and so met them face to face in the middle
of the way.
'M. d'Agen,' the foremost exclaimed, speaking in a haughty tone, and
with a dark side glance at me, 'I am sorry to see you in such company!
Doubtless you are not aware that this gentleman is the subject of an
order which has even now been issued to the Provost-Marshal.'
'And if so, sir? What of that?' my companion lisped in his silkiest
tone.
'What of that?' the other cried, frowning, and pushing slightly
forward.
'Precisely,' M. d'Agen repeated, laying his hand on his hilt and
declining to give back. 'I am not aware that his Majesty has appointed
you Provost-Marshal, or that you have any warrant, M. Villequier,
empowering you to stop gentlemen in the public streets.'
M. Villequier reddened with anger. 'You are young, M. d'Agen,' he
said, his voice quivering, 'or I would make you pay dearly for that!'
'My friend is not young,' M. d'Agen retorted, bowing. He is a
gentleman of birth, M. Villequier; by repute, as I learned yesterday,
one of the best swordsmen in France, and no Gascon. If you feel
inclined to arrest him, do so, I pray. And I will have the honour of
engaging your son.'
As we had all by this time our hands on our swords, there needed but a
blow to bring about one of those street brawls which were more common
then than now. A number of market-people, drawn to the spot by our
raised voices, had gathered round, and were waiting eagerly to see
what would happen. But Villequier, as my companion perhaps knew, was a
Gascon in heart as well as by birth, and seeing our determined
aspects, thought better of it. Shrugging his shoulders with an
affectation of disdain which imposed on no one, he signalled to his
servants to go on, and himself stood aside.
'I thank you for your polite offer,' he said with an evil smile, 'and
will remember it. But as you say, sir, I am not the Provost-Marshal.'
Paying little heed to his words, we bowed, passed him, and hurried on.
But the peril was not over. Not only had the _rencontre_ cost us some
precious minutes, but the Gascon, after letting us proceed a little
way, followed us. And word being passed by his servants, as we
supposed, that one of us was the murderer of Father Antoine, the
rumour spread through the crowd like wildfire, and in a few moments we
found ourselves attended by a troop of _canaille_ who, hanging on our
skirts, caused Simon Fleix no little apprehension. Notwithstanding the
contempt which M. d'Agen, whose bearing throughout was admirable,
expressed for them, we might have found it necessary to turn and teach
them a lesson had we not reached M. de Rambouillet's in the nick of
time; where we found the door surrounded by half a dozen armed
servants, at sight of whom our persecutors fell back with the
cowardice which is usually found in that class.
If I had been tempted of late to think M. de Rambouillet fickle, I had
no reason to complain now; whether his attitude was due to M. d'Agen's
representations, or to the reflection that without me the plans he had
at heart must miscarry. I found him waiting within, attended by three
gentlemen, all cloaked and ready for the road; while the air of
purpose which sat on his brow indicated that he thought the crisis no
common one. Not a moment was lost, even in explanations. Waving me to
the door again, and exchanging a few sentences with his nephew, he
gave the word to start, and we issued from the house in a body.
Doubtless the fact that those who sought to ruin me were his political
enemies had some weight with him; for I saw his face harden as his
eyes met those of M. de Villequier, who passed slowly before the door
as we came out. The Gascon, however, was not the man to interfere with
so large a party, and dropped back; while M. de Rambouillet, after
exchanging a cold salute with him, led the way towards the Castle at a
round pace. His nephew and I walked one on either side of him, and the
others, to the number of ten or eleven, pressed on behind in a compact
body, our cortege presenting so determined a front that the crowd,
which had remained hanging about the door, fled every way. Even some
peaceable folk who found themselves in our road took the precaution of
slipping into doorways, or stood aside to give us the full width of
the street.
I remarked--and I think it increased my anxiety--that our leader was
dressed with more than usual care and richness, but, unlike his
attendants, wore no arms. He took occasion, as we hurried along, to
give me a word of advice. 'M. de Marsac,' he said, looking at me
suddenly, 'my nephew has given me to understand that you place
yourself entirely in my hands.'
I replied that I asked for no better fortune, and, whatever the event,
thanked him from the bottom of my heart.
'Be pleased then to keep silence until I bid you speak,' he replied
sharply, for he was one of those whom a sudden stress sours and
exacerbates. 'And, above all, no violence without my orders. We are
about to fight a battle, and a critical one, but it must be won with
our heads. If we can we will keep you out of the Provost-Marshal's
hands.'
And if not? I remembered the threats Father Antoine had used, and in a
moment I lost sight of the street with all its light and life and
movement. I felt no longer the wholesome stinging of the wind. I
tasted instead a fetid air, and saw round me a narrow cell and masked
figures, and in particular a swathy man in a leather apron leaning
over a brazier, from whim came lurid flames. And I was bound. I
experienced that utter helplessness which is the last test of courage.
The man came forward, and then--then, thank God! the vision passed
away. An exclamation to which M. d'Agen gave vent, brought me back to
the present, and to the blessed knowledge that the fight was not yet
over.
We were within a score of paces, I found, of the Castle gates: but so
were also a second party, who had just debouched from a side-street,
and now hurried on, pace for pace, with us, with the evident intention
of forestalling us. The race ended in both companies reaching the
entrance at the same time, with the consequence of some jostling
taking place amongst the servants. This must have led to blows but for
the strenuous commands which M. de Rambouillet had laid upon his
followers. I found myself in a moment confronted by a row of scowling
faces, while a dozen threatening hands were stretched out towards me,
and as many voices, among which I recognised Fresnoy's, cried out
tumultuously, 'That is he! That is the one!'
An elderly man in a quaint dress stepped forward, a paper in his hand,
and, backed as he was by half a dozen halberdiers, would in a moment
have laid hands on me if M. de Rambouillet had not intervened with a
negligent air of authority, which sat on him the more gracefully as he
held nothing but a riding-switch in his hands. 'Tut, tut! What is
this?' he said lightly. 'I am not wont to have my people interfered
with, M. Provost, without my leave. You know me, I suppose?'
'Perfectly, M. le Marquis,' the man answered with dogged respect; 'but
this is by the king's special command.'
'Very good,' my patron answered, quietly eyeing the faces behind the
Provost-Marshal, as if he were making a note of them; which caused
some of the gentlemen manifest uneasiness. 'That is soon seen, for we
are even now about to seek speech with his Majesty.'
'Not this gentleman,' the Provost-Marshal answered firmly, raising his
hand again. 'I can not let him pass.'
'Yes, this gentleman too, by your leave,' the Marquis retorted,
lightly putting the hand aside with his cane.
'Sir,' said the other, retreating a step and speaking with some heat,
'this is no jest with all respect. I hold the king's own order, and it
may not be resisted.'
The nobleman tapped his silver comfit-box and smiled. 'I shall be the
last to resist it--if you have it,' he said languidly.
'You may read it for yourself,' the Provost-Marshal answered, his
patience exhausted.
M. de Rambouillet took the parchment with the ends of his fingers,
glanced at it, and gave it back. 'As I thought,' he said, 'a manifest
forgery.'
'A forgery!' cried the officer, crimson with indignation. 'And I had
it from the hands of the king's own secretary!' At this those behind
murmured, some 'shame,' and some one thing, and some another--all with
an air so threatening that the Marquis's gentlemen closed up behind
him, and M. d'Agen laughed rudely.
But M. de Rambouillet remained unmoved. 'You may have had it from whom
you please, sir,' he said. 'It is a forgery, and I shall resist its
execution. If you choose to await me here, I will give you my word to
render this gentleman to you within an hour, should the order hold
good. If you will not wait, I shall command my servants to clear the
way, and if ill happen, then the responsibility will lie with you.'
He spoke in so resolute a manner it was not difficult to see that
something more was at stake than the arrest of a single man. This was
so; the real issue was whether the king, with whose instability it was
difficult to cope, should fall back into the hands of his old advisers
or not. My arrest was a move in the game intended as a counterblast to
the victory which M. de Rambouillet had gained when he persuaded the
king to move to Tours; a city in the neighbourhood of the Huguenots,
and a place of arms whence union with them would be easy.
The Provost-Marshal could, no doubt, make a shrewd guess at these
things. He knew that the order he had would be held valid or not
according as one party or the other gained the mastery; and, seeing M.
de Rambouillet's resolute demeanour, he gave way. Rudely interrupted
more than once by his attendants, among whom were some of Bruhl's men,
he muttered an ungracious assent to our proposal; on which, and
without a moment's delay, the Marquis took me by the arm and hurried
me across the courtyard.
And so far, well. My heart began to rise. But, for the Marquis, as we
mounted the staircase the anxiety he had dissembled while we faced the
Provost-Marshal, broke out in angry mutterings; from which I gathered
that the crisis was yet to come. I was not surprised, therefore, when
an usher rose on our appearance in the antechamber, and, quickly
crossing the floor, interposed between us and the door of the chamber,
informing the Marquis with a low obeisance that his Majesty was
engaged.
'He will see me,' M. de Rambouillet cried, looking haughtily round on
the sneering pages and lounging courtiers, who grew civil under his
eye.
'I have particular orders, sir, to admit no one,' the man answered.
'Tut, tut, they do not apply to me,' my companion retorted, nothing
daunted. 'I know the business on which the king is engaged, and I am
here to assist him.' And raising his hand he thrust the startled
official aside, and hardily pushed the doors of the chamber open.
The king, surrounded by half a dozen persons, was in the act of
putting on his riding-boots. On hearing us, he turned his head with a
startled air, and dropped in his confusion one of the ivory cylinders
he was using; while his aspect, and that of the persons who stood
round him, reminded me irresistibly of a party of schoolboys detected
in a fault.
He recovered himself, it is true, almost immediately; and turning his
back to us, continued to talk to the persons round him on such
trifling subjects as commonly engaged him. He carried on this
conversation in a very free way, studiously ignoring our presence; but
it was plain he remained aware of it, and even that he was uneasy
under the cold and severe gaze which the Marquis, who seemed in nowise
affrighted by his reception, bent upon him.
I, for my part, had no longer any confidence. Nay, I came near to
regretting that I had persevered in an attempt so useless. The warrant
which awaited me at the gates seemed less formidable than his
Majesty's growing displeasure; which I saw I was incurring by
remaining where I was. It needed not the insolent glance of Marshal
Retz, who lounged smiling by the king's hand, or the laughter of a
couple of pages who stood at the head of the chamber, to deprive me of
my last hope; while some things which might have cheered me--the
uneasiness of some about the king, and the disquietude which underlay
Marshal Retz's manner--escaped my notice altogether.
What I did see clearly was that the king's embarrassment was fast
changing to anger. The paint which reddened his cheeks prevented any
alteration in his colour being visible, but his frown and the nervous
manner in which he kept taking off and putting on his jewelled cap
betrayed him. At length, signing to one of his companions to follow,
he moved a little aside to a window, whence, after a few moments, the
gentleman came to us.
'M. de Rambouillet,' he said, speaking coldly and formally, 'his
Majesty is displeased by this gentleman's presence, and requires him
to withdraw forthwith.'
'His Majesty's word is law,' my patron answered, bowing low, and
speaking in a clear voice audible throughout the chamber, 'but the
matter which brings this gentleman here is of the utmost importance,
and touches his Majesty's person.'
M. de Retz laughed jeeringly. The other courtiers looked grave. The
king shrugged his shoulders with a peevish gesture, but after a
moment's hesitation, during which he looked first at Retz and then at
M. de Rambouillet, he signed to the Marquis to approach.
'Why have you brought him here?' he muttered sharply, looking askance
at me. 'He should have been bestowed according to my orders.'
'He has information for your Majesty's private ear,' Rambouillet
answered. And he looked so meaningly at the king that Henry, I think,
remembered on a sudden his compact with Rosny, and my part in it; for
he started with the air of a man suddenly awakened. 'To prevent that
information reaching you, sire,' my patron continued, 'his enemies
have practised on your Majesty's well-known sense of justice.'
'Oh, but stay, stay!' the king cried, hitching forward the scanty
cloak he wore, which barely came down to his waist. 'The man has
killed a priest! He has killed a priest, man!' he repeated with
confidence, as if he had now got hold of the right argument.
'That is not so, sire, craving your Majesty's pardon,' M. de
Rambouillet replied with the utmost coolness.
'Tut! Tut! The evidence is clear,' the king said peevishly.
'As to that, sire,' my companion rejoined, 'if it is of the murder of
Father Antoine he is accused, I say boldly that there is none.'
'Then there you are mistaken!' the king answered. 'I heard it with my
own ears this morning.'
'Will you deign, sire, to tell me its nature?' M. de Rambouillet
persisted.
But on that Marshal Retz thought it necessary to intervene. 'Need we
turn his Majesty's chamber into a court of justice?' he said smoothly.
Hitherto he had not spoken; trusting, perhaps, to the impression he
had already made upon the king.
M. de Rambouillet took no notice of him.
'But Bruhl,' said the king, 'you see, Bruhl says----'
'Bruhl!' my companion replied, with so much contempt that Henry
started. 'Surely your Majesty has not taken his word against this
gentleman, of all people?'
Thus reminded, a second time, of the interests entrusted to me, and of
the advantage which Bruhl would gain by my disappearance, the king
looked first confused, and then angry. He vented his passion in one or
two profane oaths, with the childish addition that we were all a set
of traitors, and that he had no one whom he could trust. But my
companion had touched the right chord at last; for when the king grew
more composed, he waved aside Marshal Retz's protestations, and
sullenly bade Rambouillet say what he had to say.
'The monk was killed, sire, about sunset,' he answered. 'Now my
nephew, M. d'Agen, is without, and will tell your Majesty that he was
with this gentleman at his lodgings from about an hour before sunset
last evening until a full hour after. Consequently, M. de Marsac can
hardly be the assassin, and M. le Marechal must look elsewhere if he
wants vengeance.'
'Justice, sir, not vengeance,' Marshal Retz said with a dark glance.
His keen Italian face hid his trouble well, but a little pulse of
passion beating in his olive cheek betrayed the secret to those who
knew him. He had a harder part to play than his opponent; for while
Rambouillet's hands were clean, Retz knew himself a traitor, and
liable at any moment to discovery and punishment.
'Let M. d'Agen be called,' Henry said curtly.
'And if your Majesty pleases,' Retz added, 'M. de Bruhl also. If you
really intend, sire, that is, to reopen a matter which I thought had
been settled.'
The king nodded obstinately, his face furrowed with ill-temper. He
kept his shifty eyes, which seldom met those of the person he
addressed, on the floor; and this accentuated the awkward stooping
carriage which was natural to him. There were seven or eight dogs of
exceeding smallness in the room, and while we waited for the persons
who had been summoned, he kicked, now one and now another of the
baskets which held them, as if he found in this some vent for his
ill-humour.
The witnesses presently appeared, followed by several persons, among
whom were the Dukes of Nevers and Merc[oe]ur, who came to ride out
with the king, and M. de Crillon; so that the chamber grew passably
full. The two dukes nodded formally to the Marquis, as they passed
him, but entered into a muttered conversation with Retz, who appeared
to be urging them to press his cause. They seemed to decline, however,
shrugging their short cloaks as if the matter were too insignificant.
Crillon on his part cried audibly, and with an oath, to know what the
matter was; and being informed, asked whether all this fuss was being
made about a damned shaveling monk.
Henry, whose tenderness for the cowl was well known, darted an angry
glance at him, but contented himself with saying sharply to M. d'Agen,
'Now, sir, what do you know about the matter?'
'One moment, sire,' M. Rambouillet cried, interposing before Francois
could answer. 'Craving your Majesty's pardon, you have heard M. de
Bruhl's account. May I, as a favour to myself, beg you, sire, to
permit us also to hear it?'
'What?' Marshal Retz exclaimed angrily, 'are we to be the judges,
then, or his Majesty? Arnidieu!' he continued hotly, 'what, in the
fiend's name, have we to do with it? I protest 'fore Heaven----'
'Ay, sir, and what do you protest?' my champion retorted, turning to
him with stern disdain.
'Silence!' cried the king, who had listened almost bewildered.
'Silence! By God, gentlemen,' he continued, his eye travelling round
the circle with a sparkle of royal anger in it not unworthy of his
crown, 'you forget yourselves. I will have none of this quarrelling in
my presence or out of it. I lost Quelus and Maugiron that way, and
loss enough, and I will have none of it, I say! M. de Bruhl,' he
added, standing erect, and looking for the moment, with all his paint
and frippery, a king, 'M. de Bruhl, repeat your story.'
The feelings with which I listened to this controversy may be
imagined. Devoured in turn by hope and fear as now one side and now
the other seemed likely to prevail, I confronted at one moment the
gloom of the dungeon, and at another tasted the air of freedom, which
had never seemed so sweet before. Strong as these feelings were,
however, they gave way to curiosity at this point; when I heard Bruhl
called, and saw him come forward at the king's command. Knowing this
man to be himself guilty, I marvelled with what face he would present
himself before all those eyes, and from what depths of impudence he
could draw supplies in such an emergency.
I need not have troubled myself, however, for he was fully equal to
the occasion. His high colour and piercing black eyes met the gaze of
friend and foe alike without flinching. Dressed well and elegantly, he
wore his raven hair curled in the mode, and looked alike gay,
handsome, and imperturbable. If there was a suspicion of coarseness
about his bulkier figure, as he stood beside M. d'Agen, who was the
courtier perfect and point devise, it went to the scale of sincerity,
seeing that men naturally associate truth with strength.
'I know no more than this, sire,' he said easily; 'that, happening to
cross the Parvis at the moment of the murder, I heard Father Antoine
scream. He uttered four words only, in the tone of a man in mortal
peril. They were'--and here the speaker looked for an instant at
me--'Ha! Marsac! A moi!'
'Indeed!' M. de Rambouillet said, after looking to the king for
permission. 'And that was all? You saw nothing?'
Bruhl shook his head. 'It was too dark,' he said.
'And heard no more?'
'No.'
'Do I understand, then,' the Marquis continued slowly, 'that M. de
Marsac is arrested because the priest--God rest his soul!--cried to
him for help?'
'For help?' M. de Retz exclaimed fiercely.
'For help?' said the king, surprised. And at that the most ludicrous
change fell upon the faces of all. The king looked puzzled, the Duke
of Nevers smiled, the Duke of Merc[oe]ur laughed aloud. Crillon cried
boisterously, 'Good hit!' and the majority, who wished no better than
to divine the winning party, grinned broadly, whether they would or
no.
To Marshal Retz, however, and Bruhl, that which to everyone else
seemed an amusing retort had a totally different aspect; while the
former turned yellow with chagrin and came near to choking, the latter
looked as chapfallen and startled as if his guilt had been that moment
brought home to him. Assured by the tone of the monk's voice--which
must, indeed, have thundered in his ears--that my name was uttered in
denunciation by one who thought me his assailant, he had chosen to
tell the truth without reflecting that words, so plain to him, might
bear a different construction when repeated.
'Certainly the words seem ambiguous,' Henry muttered.
'But it was Marsac killed him,' Retz cried in a rage.
'It is for some evidence of that we are waiting,' my champion answered
suavely.
The Marshal looked helplessly at Nevers and Merc[oe]ur, who commonly
took part with him; but apparently those noblemen had not been primed
for this occasion. They merely shook their heads and smiled. In the
momentary silence which followed, while all looked curiously at Bruhl,
who could not conceal his mortification, M. d'Agen stepped forward.
'If your Majesty will permit me,' he said, a malicious simper crossing
his handsome face--I had often remarked his extreme dislike for Bruhl
without understanding it--'I think I can furnish some evidence more to
the point than that to which M. de Bruhl has with so much fairness
restricted himself.' He then went on to state that he had had the
honour of being in my company at the time of the murder; and he added,
besides, so many details as to exculpate me to the satisfaction of any
candid person.
The king nodded. 'That settles the matter,' he said, with a sigh of
relief. 'You think so, Merc[oe]ur, do you not? Precisely. Villequier,
see that the order respecting M. de Marsac is cancelled.'
M. de Retz could not control his wrath on hearing this direction
given. 'At this rate,' he cried recklessly, 'we shall have few priests
left here! We have got a bad name at Blois, as it is!'
For a moment all in the circle held their breath, while the king's
eyes flashed fire at this daring allusion to the murder of the Duke de
Guise, and his brother the Cardinal. But it was Henry's misfortune to
be ever indulgent in the wrong place, and severe when severity was
either unjust or impolitic. He recovered himself with an effort, and
revenged himself only by omitting to invite the Marshal, who was now
trembling in his shoes, to join his riding-party.
The circle broke up amid some excitement. I stood on one side with M.
d'Agen, while the king and his immediate following passed out, and,
greatly embarrassed as I was by the civil congratulating of many who
would have seen me hang with equal goodwill, I was sharp enough to see
that something was brewing between Bruhl and Marshal Retz, who stood
back conversing in low tones. I was not surprised, therefore, when the
former made his way towards me through the press which filled the
antechamber, and with a lowering brow requested a word with me.
'Certainly,' I said, watching him narrowly, for I knew him to be both
treacherous and a bully. 'Speak on, sir.'
'You have baulked me once and again,' he rejoined, in a voice which
shook a little, as did the fingers with which he stroked his waxed
moustache. 'There is no need of words between us. I, with one sword
besides, will to-morrow at noon keep the bridge at Chaverny, a league
from here. It is an open country. Possibly your pleasure may lead you
to ride that way with a friend?'
'You may depend upon me, sir,' I answered, bowing low, and feeling
thankful that the matter was at length to be brought to a fair and
open arbitration. 'I will be there--and in person. For my deputy last
night,' I added, searching his face with a steadfast eye, 'seems to
have been somewhat unlucky.'