CHAPTER XXII.

'LA FEMME DISPOSE.'

The moment the equerry's foot touched the uppermost stair I advanced

upon him. 'Where is your mistress, man?' I said. 'Where is

Mademoiselle de la Vire? Be quick, tell me what you have done with

her.'

His face fell amazingly. 'Where is she?' he answered, faltering

between surprise and alarm at my sudden onslaught. 'Here, she should

be. I left her here not an hour ago. Mon Dieu! Is she not here now?'

His alarm increased mine tenfold. 'No!' I retorted, 'she is not! She

is gone! And you--what business had you, in the fiend's name, to leave

her here, alone and unprotected? Tell me that!'

He leaned against the balustrade, making no attempt to defend himself,

and seemed, in his sudden terror, anything but the bold, alert fellow

who had ascended the stairs two minutes before. 'I was a fool,' he

groaned. 'I saw your man Simon here; and Fauchette, who is as good as

a man, was with her mistress. And I went to stable the horses. I

thought no evil. And now--My God!' he added, suddenly straightening

himself, while his face grew hard and grim, 'I am undone! My master

will never forgive me!'

'Did you come straight here?' I said, considering that, after all, he

was no more in fault than I had been on a former occasion.

'We went first to M. de Rosny's lodging,' he answered, 'where we found

your message telling us to come here. We came on without dismounting.'

'Mademoiselle may have gone back, and be there,' I said. 'It is

possible. Do you stay here and keep a good look-out, and I will go and

see. Let one of your men come with me.'

He uttered a brief assent; being a man as ready to take as to give

orders, and thankful now for any suggestion which held out a hope of

mademoiselle's safety. Followed by the servant he selected, I ran down

the stairs, and in a moment was hurrying along the Rue St. Denys. The

day was waning. The narrow streets and alleys were already dark, but

the air of excitement which I had noticed in the morning still marked

the townsfolk, of whom a great number were strolling abroad, or

standing in doorways talking to their gossips. Feverishly anxious as I

was, I remarked the gloom which dwelt on all faces; but as I set it

down to the king's approaching departure, and besides was intent on

seeing that those we sought did not by any chance pass us in the

crowd, I thought little of it. Five minutes' walking brought us to M.

de Rosny's lodging. There I knocked at the door; impatiently, I

confess, and with little hope of success. But, to my surprise, barely

an instant elapsed before the door opened, and I saw before me Simon

Fleix!

Discovering who it was, he cowered back, with a terrified face, and

retreated to the wall with his arm raised.

'You scoundrel!' I exclaimed, restraining myself with difficulty.

'Tell me this moment where Mademoiselle de la Vire is! Or, by Heaven,

I shall forget what my mother owed to you, and do you a mischief!'

For an instant he glared at me viciously, with all his teeth exposed,

as though he meant to refuse--and more. Then he thought better of it,

and, raising his hand, pointed sulkily upwards.

'Go before me and knock at the door,' I said, tapping the hilt of my

dagger with meaning.

Cowed by my manner, he obeyed, and led the way to the room in which M.

de Rambouillet had surprised us on a former occasion. Here he stopped

at the door and knocked gently; on which a sharp voice inside bade us

enter. I raised the latch and did so, closing the door behind me.

Mademoiselle, still wearing her riding-coat, sat in a chair before the

hearth, on which a newly kindled fire sputtered and smoked. She had

her back to me, and did not turn on my entrance, but continued to toy

in an absent manner with the strings of the mask which lay in her lap.

Fanchette stood bolt upright behind her, with her elbows squared and

her hands clasped; in such an attitude that I guessed the maid had

been expressing her strong dissatisfaction with this latest whim of

her mistress, and particularly with mademoiselle's imprudence in

wantonly exposing herself, with so inadequate a guard as Simon, in a

place where she had already suffered so much. I was confirmed in this

notion on seeing the woman's harsh countenance clear at sight of me;

though the churlish nod, which was all the greeting she bestowed on

me, seemed to betoken anything but favour or good-will. She touched

her mistress on the shoulder, however, and said, 'M. de Marsac is

here.'

Mademoiselle turned her head and looked at me languidly, without

stirring in her chair or removing the foot she was warming. 'Good

evening,' she said.

The greeting seemed so brief and so commonplace, ignoring, as it did,

both the pains and anxiety to which she had just put me and the great

purpose for which we were here--to say nothing of that ambiguous

parting which she must surely remember as well as I--that the words I

had prepared died on my lips, and I looked at her in honest confusion.

All her small face was pale except her lips. Her brow was dark, her

eyes were hard as well as weary. And not words only failed me as I

looked at her, but anger; having mounted the stairs hot foot to chide,

I felt on a sudden--despite my new cloak and scabbard, my appointment,

and the name I had made at Court--the same consciousness of age and

shabbiness and poverty which had possessed me in her presence from the

beginning. I muttered, 'Good evening, mademoiselle,' and that was all

I could say--I who had frightened the burly Maignan a few minutes

before!

Seeing, I have no doubt, the effect she produced on me, she maintained

for some time an embarrassing silence. At length she said, frigidly,

'Perhaps M. de Marsac will sit, Fanchette. Place a chair for him. I am

afraid, however, that after his successes at Court he may find our

reception somewhat cold. But we are only from the country,' she added,

looking at me askance, with a gleam of anger in her eyes.

I thanked her huskily, saying that I would not sit, as I could not

stay. 'Simon Fleix,' I continued, finding my voice with difficulty,

'has, I am afraid, caused you some trouble by bringing you to this

house instead of telling you that I had made preparation for you at my

lodgings.'

'It was not Simon Fleix's fault,' she replied curtly. 'I prefer these

rooms. They are more convenient.'

'They are, perhaps, more convenient,' I rejoined humbly, 'but I have

to think of safety, mademoiselle, as you know. At my house I have a

competent guard, and can answer for your being unmolested.'

'You can send your guard here,' she said with a royal air.

'But, mademoiselle----'

'Is it not enough that I have said that I prefer these rooms?' she

replied sharply, dropping her mask on her lap and looking round at me

in undisguised displeasure. 'Are you deaf, sir? Let me tell you, I am

in no mood for argument. I am tired with riding. I prefer these rooms,

and that is enough!'

Nothing could exceed the determination with which she said these

words, unless it were the malicious pleasure in thwarting my wishes

which made itself seen through the veil of assumed indifference. I

felt myself brought up with a vengeance, and in a manner the most

provoking that could be conceived. But opposition so childish, so

utterly wanton, by exciting my indignation, had presently the effect

of banishing the peculiar bashfulness I felt in her presence, and

recalling me to my duty.

'Mademoiselle,' I said firmly, looking at her with a fixed

countenance, 'pardon me if I speak plainly. This is no time for

playing with straws. The men from whom you escaped once are as

determined and more desperate now. By this time they probably know of

your arrival. Do, then, as I ask, I pray and beseech you. Or this time

I may lack the power, though never the will, to save you.'

Wholly ignoring my appeal, she looked into my face--for by this time I

had advanced to her side--with a whimsical smile. 'You are really much

improved in manner since I last saw you,' she said.

'Mademoiselle!' I replied, baffled and repelled. 'What do you mean?'

'What I say,' she answered, flippantly. 'But it was to be expected.'

'For shame!' I cried, provoked almost beyond bearing by her ill-timed

raillery, 'will you never be serious until you have ruined us and

yourself? I tell you this house is not safe for you! It is not safe

for me! I cannot bring my men to it, for there is not room for them.

If you have any spark of consideration, of gratitude, therefore----'

'Gratitude!' she exclaimed, swinging her mask slowly to and fro by a

ribbon, while she looked up at me as though my excitement amused her.

'Gratitude--'tis a very pretty phrase, and means much; but it is for

those who serve us faithfully, M. de Marsac, and not for others. You

receive so many favours, I am told, and are so successful at Court,

that I should not be justified in monopolising your services.'

'But, mademoiselle--' I said in a low tone. And there I stopped. I

dared not proceed.

'Well, sir,' she answered, looking up at me after a moment's silence,

and ceasing on a sudden to play with her toy, 'what is it?'

'You spoke of favours,' I continued, with an effort. 'I never received

but one from a lady. That was at Rosny, and from your hand.'

'From my hand?' she answered, with an air of cold surprise.

'It was so, mademoiselle.'

'You have fallen into some strange mistake, sir,' she replied, rousing

herself, and looking at me indifferently. 'I never gave you a favour.'

I bowed low. 'If you say you did not, mademoiselle, that is enough,' I

answered.

'Nay, but do not let me do you an injustice, M. de Marsac,' she

rejoined, speaking more quickly and in an altered tone. 'If you can

show me the favour I gave you, I shall, of course, be convinced.

Seeing is believing, you know,' she added, with a light nervous laugh,

and a gesture of something like shyness.

If I had not sufficiently regretted my carelessness, and loss of the

bow at the time, I did so now. I looked at her in silence, and saw her

face, that had for a moment shown signs of feeling, almost of shame,

grow slowly hard again.

'Well, sir?' she said impatiently. 'The proof is easy.'

'It was taken from me; I believe, by M. de Rosny,' I answered lamely,

wondering what ill-luck had led her to put the question and press it

to this point.

'It was taken from you!' she exclaimed, rising and confronting me with

the utmost suddenness, while her eyes flashed, and her little hand

crumpled the mask beyond future usefulness. 'It was taken from you,

sir!' she repeated, her voice and her whole frame trembling with anger

and disdain. 'Then I thank you, I prefer my version. Yours is

impossible. For let me tell you, when Mademoiselle de la Vire does

confer a favour, it will be on a man with the power and the wit--and

the constancy, to keep it, even from M. de Rosny!'

Her scorn hurt, though it did not anger me. I felt it to be in a

measure deserved, and raged against myself rather than against her.

But aware through all of the supreme importance of placing her in

safety, I subjected my immediate feelings to the exigencies of the

moment and stooped to an argument which would, I thought, have weight

though private pleading failed.

'Putting myself aside, mademoiselle,' I said, with more formality than

I had yet used, 'there is one consideration which must weigh with you.

The king----'

'The king!' she cried, interrupting me violently, her face hot with

passion and her whole person instinct with stubborn self-will. 'I

shall not see the king!'

'You will not see the king?' I repeated in amazement.

'No, I will not!' she answered, in a whirl of anger, scorn, and

impetuosity. 'There! I will not! I have been made a toy and a tool

long enough, M. de Marsac,' she continued, 'and I will serve others'

ends no more. I have made up my mind. Do not talk to me; you will do

no good, sir. I would to Heaven,' she added bitterly, 'I had stayed at

Chize and never seen this place!'

'But, mademoiselle,' I said, 'you have not thought----'

'Thought!' she exclaimed, shutting her small white teeth so viciously

I all but recoiled. 'I have thought enough. I am sick of thought. I am

going to act now. I will be a puppet no longer. You may take me to the

castle by force if you will; but you cannot make me speak.'

I looked at her in the utmost dismay and astonishment; being unable at

first to believe that a woman who had gone through so much, had run so

many risks, and ridden so many miles for a purpose, would, when all

was done and the hour come, decline to carry out her plan. I could not

believe it, I say, at first; and I tried arguments and entreaties

without stint, thinking that she only asked to be entreated or coaxed.

But I found prayers and even threats breath wasted upon her; and

beyond these I would not go. I know I have been blamed by some and

ridiculed by others for not pushing the matter farther; but those who

have stood face to face with a woman of spirit--a woman whose very

frailty and weakness fought for her--will better understand the

difficulties with which I had to contend and the manner in which

conviction was at last borne in on my mind. I had never before

confronted stubbornness of this kind. As mademoiselle said again and

again, I might force her to Court, but I could not make her speak.

When I had tried every means of persuasion, and still found no way of

overcoming her resolution--the while Fanchette looked on with a face

of wood, neither aiding me nor taking part against me--I lost, I

confess, in the chagrin of the moment that sense of duty which had

hitherto animated me; and though my relation to mademoiselle should

have made me as careful as ever of her safety, even in her own

despite, I left her at last in anger and went out without saying

another word about removing her--a thing which was still in my power.

I believe a very brief reflection would have recalled me to myself and

my duty; but the opportunity was not given me, for I had scarcely

reached the head of the stairs before Fanchette came after me, and

called to me in a whisper to stop.

She held a taper in her hand, and this she raised to my face, smiling

at the disorder which she doubtless read there. 'Do you say that this

house is not safe?' she asked abruptly, lowering the light as she

spoke.

'You have tried a house in Blois before?' I replied with the same

bluntness. 'You should know as well as I, woman.'

'She must be taken from here, then,' she answered, nodding her head,

cunningly. 'I can persuade her. Do you send for your people, and be

here in half an hour. It may take me that time to wheedle her. But I

shall do it.'

'Then listen,' I said eagerly, seizing the opportunity and her sleeve

and drawing her farther from the door. 'If you can persuade her to

that, you can persuade to all I wish. Listen, my friend,' I continued,

sinking my voice still lower. 'If she will see the king for only ten

minutes, and tell him what she knows, I will give you----'

'What?' the woman asked suddenly and harshly, drawing at the same time

her sleeve from my hand.

'Fifty crowns,' I replied, naming in my desperation a sum which would

seem a fortune to a person in her position. 'Fifty crowns down, the

moment the interview is over.'

'And for that you would have me sell her!' the woman cried with a rude

intensity of passion which struck me like a blow. 'For shame! For

shame, man! You persuaded her to leave her home and her friends, and

the country where she was known; and now you would have me sell her!

Shame on you! Go!' she added scornfully. 'Go this instant and get your

men. The king, say you? The king! I tell you I would not have her

finger ache to save all your kings!'

She flounced away with that, and I retired crestfallen; wondering much

at the fidelity which Providence, doubtless for the well-being of the

gentle, possibly for the good of all, has implanted in the humble.

Finding Simon, to whom I had scarce patience to speak, waiting on the

stairs below, I despatched him to Maignan, to bid him come to me with

his men. Meanwhile I watched the house myself until their arrival, and

then, going up, found that Fanchette had been as good as her word.

Mademoiselle, with a sullen mien, and a red spot on either cheek,

consented to descend, and, preceded by a couple of links, which

Maignan had thoughtfully provided, was escorted safely to my lodgings;

where I bestowed her in the rooms below my own, which I had designed

for her.

At the door she turned and bowed to me, her face on fire.

'So far, sir, you have got your way,' she said, breathing quickly. 'Do

not flatter yourself, however, that you will get it farther--even by

bribing my woman!'

Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France · 第 22 / 36 章