MEDITATIONS.
Either the small respect I had paid M. de Bruhl, or the words I had
let fall respecting the possible disappearance of M. Villequier, had
had so admirable an effect on the Provost-Marshal's mind that from the
moment of leaving my lodgings he treated me with the utmost civility;
permitting me even to retain my sword, and assigning me a
sleeping-place for the night in his own apartments at the Gate-house.
Late as it was, I could not allow so much politeness to pass
unacknowledged. I begged leave, therefore, to distribute a small
gratuity among his attendants, and requested him to do me the honour
of drinking a bottle of wine with me. This being speedily procured, at
such an expense as is usual in these places, where prisoners pay,
according as they are rich or poor, in purse or person, kept us
sitting for an hour, and finally sent us to our pallets perfectly
satisfied with one another.
The events of the day, however, and particularly one matter, on which
I have not dwelt at length, proved as effectual to prevent my sleeping
as if I had been placed in the dampest cell below the castle. So much
had been crowded into a time so short that it seemed as if I had had
until now no opportunity of considering whither I was being hurried,
or what fortune awaited me at the end of this turmoil. From the first
appearance of M. d'Agen in the morning, with the startling news that
the Provost-Marshal was seeking me, to my final surrender and
encounter with Bruhl on the stairs, the chain of events had run out so
swiftly that I had scarcely had time at any particular period to
consider how I stood, or the full import of the latest check or
victory. Now that I had leisure I lived the day over again, and,
recalling its dangers and disappointments, felt thankful that all had
ended so fairly.
I had the most perfect confidence in Maignan, and did not doubt that
Bruhl would soon weary, if he had not already wearied, of a profitless
siege. In an hour at most--and it was not yet midnight--the king would
be free to go home; and with that would end, as far as he was
concerned, the mission with which M. de Rosny had honoured me. The
task of communicating his Majesty's decision to the King of Navarre
would doubtless be entrusted to M. de Rambouillet, or some person of
similar position and influence; and in the same hands would rest the
honour and responsibility of the treaty which, as we all know now,
gave after a brief interval and some bloodshed, and one great
providence, a lasting peace to France. But it must ever be--and I
recognised this that night with a bounding heart, which told of some
store of youth yet unexhausted--a matter of lasting pride to me that
I, whose career but now seemed closed in failure, had proved the means
of conferring so especial a benefit on my country and religion.
Remembering, however, the King of Navarre's warning that I must not
look to him for reward, I felt greatly doubtful in what direction the
scene would next open to me; my main dependence being upon M. de
Rosny's promise that he would make my fortune his own care. Tired of
the Court at Blois, and the atmosphere of intrigue and treachery which
pervaded it, and with which I hoped I had now done, I was still at a
loss to see how I could recross the Loire in face of the Vicomte de
Turenne's enmity. I might have troubled myself much more with
speculating upon this point had I not found--in close connection with
it--other and more engrossing food for thought in the capricious
behaviour of Mademoiselle de la Vire.
To that behaviour it seemed to me that I now held the clue. I
suspected with as much surprise as pleasure that only one construction
could be placed upon it--a construction which had strongly occurred to
me on catching sight of her face when she intervened between me and
the king.
Tracing the matter back to the moment of our meeting in the
antechamber at St. Jean d'Angely, I remembered the jest which
Mathurine had uttered at our joint expense. Doubtless it had dwelt in
mademoiselle's mind, and exciting her animosity against me had
prepared her to treat me with contumely when, contrary to all
probability, we met again, and she found herself placed in a manner in
my hands. It had inspired her harsh words and harsher looks on our
journey northwards, and contributed with her native pride to the low
opinion I had formed of her when I contrasted her with my honoured
mother.
But I began to think it possible that the jest had worked in another
way as well, by keeping me before her mind and impressing upon her the
idea--after my re-appearance at Chize more particularly--that our
fates were in some way linked. Assuming this, it was not hard to
understand her manner at Rosny when, apprised that I was no impostor,
and regretting her former treatment of me, she still recoiled from the
feelings which she began to recognise in her own breast. From that
time, and with this clue, I had no difficulty in tracing her motives,
always supposing that this suspicion, upon which I dwelt with feelings
of wonder and delight, were well founded.
Middle-aged and grizzled, with the best of my life behind me, I had
never dared to think of her in this way before. Poor and comparatively
obscure, I had never raised my eyes to the wide possessions said to be
hers. Even now I felt myself dazzled and bewildered by the prospect so
suddenly unveiled. I could scarcely, without vertigo, recall her as I
had last seen her, with her hand wounded in my defence; nor, without
emotions painful in their intensity, fancy myself restored to the
youth of which I had taken leave, and to the rosy hopes and plannings
which visit most men once only, and then in early years. Hitherto I
had deemed such things the lot of others.
Daylight found me--and no wonder--still diverting myself with these
charming speculations; which had for me, be it remembered, all the
force of novelty. The sun chanced to rise that morning in a clear sky,
and brilliantly for the time of year; and words fail me when I look
back, and try to describe how delicately this simple fact enhanced my
pleasure! I sunned myself in the beams, which penetrated my barred
window; and tasting the early freshness with a keen and insatiable
appetite, I experienced to the full that peculiar aspiration after
goodness which Providence allows such moments to awaken in us in
youth; but rarely when time and the camp have blunted the
sensibilities.
I had not yet arrived at the stage at which difficulties have to be
reckoned up, and the chief drawback to the tumult of joy I felt took
the shape of regret that my mother no longer lived to feel the
emotions proper to the time, and to share in the prosperity which she
had so often and so fondly imagined. Nevertheless, I felt myself drawn
closer to her. I recalled with the most tender feelings, and at
greater leisure than had before been the case, her last days and
words, and particularly the appeal she had uttered on mademoiselle's
behalf. And I vowed, if it were possible, to pay a visit to her grave
before leaving the neighbourhood, that I might there devote a few
moments to the thought of the affection which had consecrated all
women in my eyes.
I was presently interrupted in these reflections by a circumstance
which proved in the end diverting enough, though far from reassuring
at the first blush. It began in a dismal rattling of chains in the
passage below and on the stairs outside my room; which were paved,
like the rest of the building, with stone. I waited with impatience
and some uneasiness to see what would come of this; and my surprise
may be imagined when, the door being unlocked, gave entrance to a man
in whom I recognised on the instant deaf Matthew--the villain whom I
had last seen with Fresnoy in the house in the Rue Valois. Amazed at
seeing him here, I sprang to my feet in fear of some treachery, and
for a moment apprehended that the Provost-Marshal had basely given me
over to Bruhl's custody. But a second glance informing me that the man
was in irons--hence the noise I had heard--I sat down again to see
what would happen.
It then appeared that he merely brought me my breakfast, and was a
prisoner in less fortunate circumstances than myself; but as he
pretended not to recognise me, and placed the things before me in
obdurate silence, and I had no power to make him hear, I failed to
learn how he came to be in durance. The Provost-Marshal, however,
came presently to visit me, and brought me in token that the
good-fellowship of the evening still existed a pouch of the Queen's
herb; which I accepted for politeness' sake rather than from any
virtue I found in it. And from him I learned how the rascal came to be
in his charge.
It appeared that Fresnoy, having no mind to be hampered with a wounded
man, had deposited him on the night of our _melee_ at the door of a
hospital attached to a religious house in that part or the town. The
Fathers had opened to him, but before taking him in put, according to
their custom, certain questions. Matthew had been primed with the
right answers to these questions, which were commonly a form; but,
unhappily for him, the Superior by chance or mistake began with the
wrong one.
'You are not a Huguenot, my son?' he said.
'In God's name, I am!' Matthew replied with simplicity, believing he
was asked if he was a Catholic.
'What?' the scandalised Prior ejaculated, crossing himself in doubt,
'are you not a true son of the Church?'
'Never!' quoth our deaf friend--thinking all went well.
'A heretic!' cried the monk.
'Amen to that!' replied Matthew innocently; never doubting but that he
was asked the third question, which was, commonly, whether he needed
aid.
Naturally after this there was a very pretty commotion, and Matthew,
vainly protesting that he was deaf, was hurried off to the
Provost-Marshal's custody. Asked how he communicated with him, the
Provost answered that he could not, but that his little godchild, a
girl only eight years old, had taken a strange fancy to the rogue, and
was never so happy as when talking to him by means of signs, of which
she had invented a great number. I thought this strange at the time,
but I had proof before the morning was out that it was true enough,
and that the two were seldom apart, the little child governing this
grim cut-throat with unquestioned authority.
After the Provost was gone I heard the man's fetters clanking again.
This time he entered to remove my cup and plate, and surprised me by
speaking to me. Maintaining his former sullenness, and scarcely
looking at me, he said abruptly: 'You are going out again?'
I nodded assent.
'Do you remember a bald-faced bay horse that fell with you?' he
muttered, keeping his dogged glance on the floor.
I nodded again.
'I want to sell the horse,' he said. 'There is not such another in
Blois, no, nor in Paris! Touch it on the near hip with the whip and it
will go down as if shot. At other times a child might ride it. It is
in a stable, the third from the Three Pigeons, in the Ruelle Amancy.
Fresnoy does not know where it is. He sent to ask yesterday, but I
would not tell him.'
Some spark of human feeling which appeared in his lowering, brutal
visage as he spoke of the horse led me to desire further information.
Fortunately the little girl appeared at that moment at the door in
search of her playfellow; and through her I learned that the man's
motive for seeking to sell the horse was fear lest the dealer in whose
charge it stood should dispose of it to repay himself for its keep,
and he, Matthew, lose it without return.
Still I did not understand why he applied to me, but I was well
pleased when I learned the truth. Base as the knave was, he had an
affection for the bay, which had been his only property for six years.
Having this in his mind, he had conceived the idea that I should treat
it well, and should not, because he was in prison and powerless, cheat
him of the price.
In the end I agreed to buy the horse for ten crowns, paying as well
what was due at the stable. I had it in my head to do something also
for the man, being moved to this partly by an idea that there was good
in him, and partly by the confidence he had seen fit to place in me,
which seemed to deserve some return. But a noise below stairs diverted
my attention. I heard myself named, and for the moment forgot the
matter.