HOW A CLEVER WOMAN OUTWITTED AN OBSTINATE MAN
I
The door was thrown open and Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de
Froidmont, stood at attention upon the threshold.
'Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy's messenger, is it not, Messire?' asked
Marguerite of Navarre quickly, even before Gilles had time to make
the formal announcement.
'Messire de Montigny has arrived, your Majesty,' he replied. 'He
bears credentials from Monseigneur the governor of Cambray.'
'Messire de Montigny?' she said, with a frown of puzzlement. 'In
person?'
'Yes, your Majesty.'
'Has he come with a retinue, then?' broke in _Monsieur_ with his
wonted peevishness. 'There is no room in the city. Already I have
scarce room for my men.'
'Messire de Montigny is alone, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles de
Crohin, 'save for an equerry. He proposes to return to Cambray this
night.'
_Monsieur_ uttered a fretful exclamation, but already Marguerite had
interposed.
'We cannot,' she said curtly, 'keep Messire de Montigny on the
doorstep, my dear brother. And you must remember that I have your
promise.'
'Holy Virgin!' was _Monsieur's_ only comment on this timeful
reminder. 'Was ever man so plagued before by a woman who was not
even his mistress, Gilles!' he added peremptorily.
'François!' admonished his sister sternly.
'_Mon Dieu_, my dear!' he retorted. 'May I not speak to Gilles now?
Gilles, who is my best friend----'
'Messire de Montigny is in the corridor,' she broke in firmly.
'I know! I know! Curse him! I only wished to order Gilles--my best
friend, Gilles--not to leave me in the lurch; not to abandon me all
alone between an impetuous sister and a mulish Fleming.'
'François!' she exclaimed. 'What folly!'
'Gilles must remain in the room,' he declared, 'during the interview.'
'Impossible!' she affirmed hotly. 'Messire de Montigny might not
like it.'
'Then I'll not see him----'
Marguerite de Navarre was on the verge of tears. Vexation,
impatience, choler, were wellnigh choking her.
'Very well!' she said at last, with a sigh of infinite weariness. 'I
pray you, Messire,' she added, turning to Gilles, 'introduce
Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy's messenger and remain in the room, as
_Monsieur_ bids you, during the interview.'
II
Messire de Montigny was a short, stout, determined-looking gentleman
who, very obviously, despite his outward show of deference to a scion
of the house of France, had received his instructions as to the
manner in which he was to deal with that procrastinating and indolent
prince. He had clearly come here resolved to be firm and not to
yield an inch in his demands, nor to allow any further delay in the
negotiations wherewith he had been entrusted.
But with François, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, a promise given was not
of necessity a promise kept. No one knew that better than the sister
who adored him, and whose quasi-maternal love for him was not wholly
free from contempt. Therefore, all the while that Messire de
Montigny was paying his devoirs to _Monsieur_ and to herself, all the
while that the preliminary flummery, the bowings and the scrapings,
the grandiloquent phrases and meaningless compliments went on between
the two men, Marguerite of Navarre was watching her brother, noting
with a sinking of the heart every sign of peevish fretfulness upon
that weak and good-looking face, and of that eternal desire to put
decisions off, which she knew in this case would mean the ruin of all
her ambitious plans for him. At times, her luminous dark eyes would
exchange a glance of understanding or of appeal with Gilles de Crohin
who, silent and apparently disinterested, stood in a corner of the
room quietly watching the comedy which was being enacted before him.
Marguerite de Navarre, whose sense of the ridiculous was one of her
keenest attributes, could well appreciate how a man of Gilles'
caustic humour would be amused at this double-edged duel of
temperaments. She could see how, at _Monsieur's_ perpetual
parryings, Gilles' moustache would bristle and his deep-set eyes
twinkle with merriment; and though she frowned on him for this
impertinence, she could not altogether blame him for it. There
certainly was an element of farce in the proceedings.
'I have come for Monseigneur's answer,' Messire de Montigny had
declared with uncompromising energy. 'My brother de Lalain and M.
d'Inchy cannot, and will not, wait!'
'You Flemings are always in such a devil of a hurry!' Monsieur had
said, with an attempt at jocularity.
'We have endured tyranny for close upon a century, Monseigneur,'
retorted de Montigny curtly. 'We have been long-suffering; we can
endure no longer.'
'But, Holy Virgin, Messire!' exclaimed the Duke fretfully, 'ye cannot
expect a man to risk his entire future in the turn of a hand.'
'Monsieur le Baron d'Inchy had the honour to send a letter to
Monseigneur two months ago,' rejoined the other. 'The Provinces have
fought the whole might of Spain and of Don Juan of Austria on their
own initiative and on their own resources, for the recovery of their
ancient civil and religious liberties. But they have fought unaided
quite long enough. We must have help and we must have a leader. The
Prince of Orange has his following in Holland. We in the Cambrésis,
in Hainault and Artois and Flanders want a sovereign of our own--a
sovereign who has power and the might of a great kingdom and of
powerful alliances behind him. 'Our choice has fallen on _Monsieur_,
Duc d'Alençon and d'Anjou, own brother to the King of France. Will
he deign to accept the sovereignty of the United Provinces of the
Netherlands and give them the happiness and the freedom which they
seek?'
With a certain rough dignity Messire de Montigny put one knee to the
ground and swept the floor with his plumed hat ere he pressed his
hand against his heart in token of loyalty and obeisance. Marguerite
de Navarre's beautiful face became irradiated with a great joy. Her
fine nostrils quivered with excitement and she threw a look of
triumph on Messire Gilles, who had, in his appearance just then, the
solemnity of a Puck--and one of encouragement on the beloved brother.
But _Monsieur_ looked as sullen and as gloomy as he had done before.
If there was a thing on this earth which he hated more than any
other, it was a plain question which required a plain answer. He was
furious with Messire de Montigny for having asked a plain question,
furious with his sister for looking triumphant, and furious with
Gilles for seeming so amused.
So he took refuge in moody silence, and Messire de Montigny, with a
flush of anger on his round face, quickly rose to his feet. Even to
one less keenly observant than was the clever Queen of Navarre, it
would have been obvious that all these obsequious marks of deference,
these genuflexions and soft words were highly unpalatable to the
envoy of Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy, governor of the Cambrésis.
They were proud folk, these Flemings--nobles, burgesses and workers
alike--and it had only been after very mature deliberation and driven
by stern necessity that they had decided to call in a stranger to aid
them in their distress. The tyranny of the Spaniards had weighed
heavily upon them. One by one they saw their ancient privileges
wrested from them, whilst their liberty to worship in accordance with
the dictates of their conscience was filched from them under
unspeakable horrors and tyrannies. They had fought on doggedly,
often hopelessly, loth to call in outside aid for fear of exchanging
one oppressor for another, and a while ago they had a goodly number
of victories to their credit. Orange had freed many provinces, and
several cities had driven the Spanish garrisons from out their gates.
M. le Baron d'Inchy had seized Cambray and the Cambrésis and driven
the Catholic Archbishop into exile. Flemish governors were
established in Hainault, Brabant, in Artois and in Flanders; the
Dutch were the masters in Holland, Zeeland and Frise--a splendid
achievement! For, remember that these burghers and their untrained
bands were pitted against the finest military organization of the
epoch.
But lately, the Spaniards, alarmed at these reverses, had sent fresh
troops into the Netherlands, and Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma,
their most distinguished soldier, had obtained signal victories over
the war-wearied Dutch and Flemish troops. Since Orange had suffered
a signal defeat at Gembloux three years ago several cities had fallen
back once more under the Spanish yoke. It was time to call in
foreign aid. On the one hand, Elizabeth of England had given
assurances of money and of troops; on the other, Marguerite of
Navarre had made vague promises in the name of the Duc d'Alençon. A
Catholic prince was a bitter pill to swallow for these staunch
Protestants, but when d'Inchy offered _Monsieur_ the sovereignty of
the Netherlands, with immediate possession of the Cambrésis, of
Hainault, Artois and Flanders, he had first of all
insisted--respectfully but firmly--on certain guarantees: the
guarantee which to _Monsieur's_ fastidious taste was like a bitter
pill in the sugary offer--a Flemish wife and a Protestant to
boot--one who would hold the new sovereign lord true to his promise
to uphold and protect the reformed faith.
III
"I hate being forced into a marriage!" _Monsieur_ repeated for the
third time, as he cast lowering looks upon the bowed head of M. de
Montigny.
'There is no question of force, Monseigneur,' rejoined the latter
firmly. 'M. d'Inchy, speaking in the name of our provinces, had the
honour to propose a bargain, which Monseigneur will accept or reject
as he thinks fit.'
'But this Jacqueline--er--Jacqueline----?' queried Monsieur
disdainfully.
'Jacqueline de Broyart, Dame de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de
Ramose, d'Espienne et de Wargny,' broke in Messire de Montigny with
stern pride, "is as beautiful and pure as she is rich and noble. She
is worthy to be the consort of a King.'
'But I have never seen the lady!' argued _Monsieur_ irritably.
'Jacqueline de Broyart,' retorted de Montigny curtly, 'cannot be
trotted out for Monseigneur's inspection like a filly who is put up
for sale!'
'Who talks of trotting her out?' said _Monsieur_. '_Mon Dieu_, man!
Can I not even see my future wife? In matters of beauty tastes
differ, and----'
'You will admit, Messire,' here interposed Marguerite quickly, seeing
that at _Monsieur's_ tone of thinly-veiled contempt frowns of anger,
dark as thunder-clouds, were gathering on Messire de Montigny's brow.
'You will admit that it is only just that my brother should see the
lady ere he finally decides.'
'Jacqueline, Madame la Reyne,' riposted de Montigny gruffly, 'is
wooed by every rich and puissant seigneur in four kingdoms. Princes
of the blood in Germany and Austria and Spain, noble lords of England
and of France are at her feet. She is a mere child--scarce nineteen
years of age--but she has a woman's heart and a woman's pride. She
is my cousin's child; d'Inchy and my brother are her guardians. They
would not allow an affront to be put upon her.'
'An affront, Messire?' queried Marguerite coldly. 'Who spoke of an
affront to the Duc d'Alençon's future wife?'
'If Monseigneur sees the child,' argued de Montigny stiffly, 'and
then turns against her, she is quite old enough to look upon that
fact as an affront.'
'The devil take you for a stiff-necked Fleming, Messire!' quoth the
Duke angrily.
'Then Monseigneur refuses?' was de Montigny's calm retort, even
though his rough voice was shaking with suppressed choler.
'No, no, Messire!' once more broke in Marguerite hastily. 'Did
Monseigneur say that he refused?'
'Monseigneur seems disinclined to accept,' rejoined de Montigny.
'And so much hesitation is a slur cast upon the honour of a noble
Flemish lady who is my kinswoman.'
'Believe me, Messire,' said Marguerite gently and with unerring tact,
determined to conciliate at all costs, 'that we of the house of
Valois hold all honour in high esteem. Meseems that you and my
brother do but misunderstand one another. Will you allow a woman's
wit to bridge over the difficulty?'
'If you please, Madame,' replied de Montigny stiffly.
IV
Marguerite de Navarre gave a short sigh of satisfaction. One look of
warning only did she cast on her brother, and with an almost
imperceptible movement of finger to lip she enjoined him to remain
silent and to leave the matter in her hands. François d'Anjou
shrugged his shoulders and smothered a yawn. The whole matter was
eminently distasteful to him, and gladly would he have thrown up the
promised throne and be rid of all these serious questions which bored
him to tears.
De Montigny stood erect and stern; his attitude remained deferential,
but also unyielding. He was deeply offended in the person of the
child who in his sight stood for all that was most noble and most
desirable in the Netherlands. The indifference with which the offer
of such a brilliant alliance had been received by this Prince of
France had angered the stiff-necked Fleming beyond measure. But
Marguerite, feeling the difficulties around her, was now on her
mettle. None knew better than she how to make a man unbend--even if
he be a bitter enemy, which de Montigny certainly was not.
'Messire,' she said with that gentle dignity which became her so
well, 'I pray you be not angered with my brother. He has had much to
worry him of late. Indeed, indeed,' she continued earnestly, 'his
heart is entirely given over to your magnificent country and he is
proud and honoured to have been chosen by you as your future
Sovereign Lord.'
But to this conciliating harangue de Montigny made no reply, and
Marguerite resumed, after a slight pause.
'Perhaps you do not know, Messire, that the King of France, our
brother, hath not such goodwill towards his kindred as they would
wish, and that, fearing that _Monsieur_ would be overproud of your
offer and would nurture further ambitious plans, he did order
_Monsieur's_ arrest, thereby causing us much delay.'
'Yes, your Majesty,' replied de Montigny curtly, 'I knew all that.
But the offer hath been made to Monseigneur now--and I still await
his answer.'
'His answer is yes, Messire!' said Marguerite firmly.
'A grudging "yes," forsooth,' quoth de Montigny with an impatient
shrug of the shoulders.
'An eager "yes," an you'll believe me,' retorted Marguerite. 'All
that he asks is to see the noble Dame Jacqueline de Broyart and to
pay her his devoirs ere he is formally affianced to her.'
'Hang it all!' quoth _Monsieur_ resolutely. 'You cannot expect a man
to wed a woman whom he has never seen!'
'A man in Monseigneur's position,' retorted de Montigny gruffly,
'must do many things which humbler folk can afford to leave undone,
and I have explained my objections to that plan; so that if Madame la
Reyne hath none other to offer----'
'Nay! but I entreat you to listen to me, Messire,' urged Marguerite
with exemplary patience. 'And you, François,' she added, turning to
her brother, who at de Montigny's last words had muttered an angry
oath under his breath, 'I beg that you will let me unfold my plan ere
you combat it. Messire,' she continued earnestly, once more
addressing the Flemish lord, 'let me assure you again that I both
understand and appreciate your objection and, on my soul I never
dreamed of suggesting that so noble and great a lady as Madame
Jacqueline de Broyart should, as you justly remark, be trotted out
for the inspection of Monseigneur, like a filly which is put up for
sale.'
'Well, then----?' retorted de Montigny.
'Tell me, Messire,' she interposed irrelevantly, 'how old exactly is
Madame Jacqueline?'
'Not yet twenty,' he replied. 'But I do not see----'
'You will in a moment,' quoth she with a smile. 'Twenty, you said?'
'Not quite.'
'And beautiful, of course?'
'Ask the men of Hainault and of Flanders,' was his proud reply.
'They will tell you how beautiful she is.'
'Twenty--not quite--and beautiful,' said Marguerite of Navarre
slowly. 'And of a romantic turn of mind, shall we say, as young
girls so often are?'
'Oh, as to that,' replied de Montigny with a puzzled frown, 'I dare
swear that she hath a romantic turn of mind. She certainly would not
allow herself to be offered up for sale like a bundle of goods.
Therefore----'
'Easy, easy, Messire!' urged the Queen gently. 'I entreat you to
reply to my questions without choler. Are we not both striving to
find a way out of an impasse which might wreck the very welfare of
your country and Monseigneur d'Inchy's most cherished scheme?'
De Montigny sighed impatiently. 'You are right, Madame la Reyne,' he
said grudgingly. 'I pray you continue. I'll not lose my temper
again. My word on it.'
'You were about to assure me, Messire,' resumed Marguerite gently,
'that Madame Jacqueline is as romantic as she is beautiful.'
'Jacqueline has been spoilt and adulated,' replied de Montigny,
determined to speak calmly. 'Poets have dedicated their verses to
her. Musicians have sung her praises----'
'And love-sick swains have died of love for her, or sighed
impassioned tirades beneath her casement-window,' concluded
Marguerite, with a smile which was so winning that, despite himself,
after a moment or two, it found a pale reflex in de Montigny's stern
face.
'Who should know better than the Queen of Navarre,' he retorted, with
a crude effort at gallantry, 'the power which beauty wields over all
men?'
'Very well, then, Messire,' quoth she gaily. 'Listen to my plan, for
I swear 'tis a good one, since it will marry your pride to my
brother's hesitation. I propose that _Monsieur_ le Duc d'Anjou shall
first approach Madame Jacqueline under an assumed name. She hath
never seen him--he is totally unknown in these parts; his incognito
could therefore be easily kept up.'
'I don't quite understand,' muttered de Montigny with a frown.
'You will in a moment,' she rejoined. 'I propose, then, that
_Monsieur_ shall enact a part--the part of an unknown and noble
prince who hath become secretly enamoured of Madame Jacqueline. I
would suggest that he should appear before her closely masked and
begin his part by sighing dolefully beneath her casement-window.
Thus, at the outset, Madame Jacqueline, being what she is--romantic
and not yet twenty--will feel an interest in this unknown swain. Her
curiosity will be aroused, and she will not be loth to grant him the
interview for which he will have sighed and begged in all humility.'
'But that is sheer folly, Madame!' broke in de Montigny, who had been
at great pains to check his growing truculence.
'Folly?' she queried blandly. 'Why?'
'Because--because----' he argued gruffly.
'You promised on your honour, Messire,' she admonished gaily, 'that
you would not again lose your temper.'
'But the folly of it!'
'Again I ask you--why folly?'
'Jacqueline is not a foolish child. She is not like to be taken in
by so transparent a comedy.'
'It will not be transparent, Messire. Under my guidance the comedy
will be exceedingly well acted. Madame Jacqueline will never know
that her love-sick swain is the Duke of Anjou.'
'Then 'tis greater folly still!'
'Ah, that I swear it is not!' retorted Marguerite de Navarre hotly.
'Your Jacqueline is not twenty--she is proud and beautiful and
romantic. Well! give her some romance and she'll thank you for it
presently on her knees.'
'But----' protested de Montigny.
'Is not the whole thing simplicity in itself?' she broke in eagerly.
'The fame of Madame Jacqueline's beauty hath spread far and wide;
what more rational than that a noble prince--too insignificant or too
poor to enter the lists for her hand--should choose a romantic method
to approach her? After all, what are we all striving for? That
_Monsieur_ shall see the lovely Jacqueline without her knowing that
he proposes to woo her. If, in addition to that, we cause the two
young people to fall in love with one another, we shall have done
well; whilst, on the other hand, if, after having seen her,
_Monsieur_ retires from the candidature, the susceptibilities of the
Flemish nation and of Madame Jacqueline will have been safeguarded.'
'How?'
'The unknown prince can vanish as mysteriously as he came. The story
can reach Madame Jacqueline's ear that he was found killed by some
other jealous swain outside her garden-gate.'
'Folly, Madame! Folly, I say!' protested de Montigny, perhaps a
shade less forcibly than he had done before.
'Nay, then, 'tis a blessed folly, Messire, which oft outweighs
counsels of wisdom.'
'But----'
'Ah! but me no more buts, Messire! Ye cannot bring forth one
objection which I cannot easily combat. Think on it! A romantic
girl, whose life will be brightened by this pretty adventure!'
'Perchance----'
'Perchance what?'
'She fall in love with the unknown swain.'
'So much the better, when she discovers he is her future lord.'
Then, as de Montigny really appeared to be struggling between consent
and refusal, and doubt, anger, contempt, irresolution were
alternately depicted in his rugged face, she continued persuasively:
'Think, Messire, how you safeguard your niece's feelings, her just
pride, her maidenly reserve. _Monsieur_ le Duc d'Anjou will either
himself fall madly in love with Madame Jacqueline--in which case you
will have added the leaven of passion to the stodgy dough of
matrimony--or else he'll withdraw from the candidature, unknown,
unsuspected; and the child will only have one pleasant dream the more
to add to her illusions.'
Montigny was yielding. Who could, indeed, resist for long the
insinuating tongue of Marguerite of Navarre, the eager glitter of her
eyes, the strength of her will and of her personality. The
sober-minded, stiff-necked and somewhat slow-witted Fleming felt
himself literally swept off his feet in this whirlpool of adventure
and of intrigue, and his language was not sufficiently glib to meet
objection with objection, to parry or to thrust in this unequal duel
of wits. Perhaps--had he not desired so passionately the alliance
which he had been sent to conclude, had he been less firmly convinced
that a union with France would prove the salvation of his people and
of the country which he worshipped--he might have opposed an
obstinate and gruff refusal to Marguerite's subtle scheme. But as it
was, his resistance was soon disarmed; she even managed to conquer
the irritation which _Monsieur's_ very personality had aroused in his
mind.
'We have not yet heard,' he said at last, 'what Monseigneur le duc
d'Anjou hath to say on the matter.'
'Oh!' _Monsieur_ hastened to say with mock sincerity, 'all that I
have to say is that throughout my life I have from time to time and
on many a momentous occasion, registered on oath that I would never
be affianced to a woman whom I had not previously learned to love.'
'You will own, Messire,' broke in Marguerite gently, 'that this is a
laudable sentiment.'
Nor did she think it desirable to let Messire de Montigny know that
her unreliable brother had vowed but half an hour ago that if a wife
were thrust upon him now he would, an he did not like her, repudiate
her even at the foot of the altar. Shifty and irresponsible in most
things, she knew him well enough to understand that in matters which
affected himself and his desires, he would prove dangerous, obstinate
and cruel.
'On my soul!' added _Monsieur_ with well-assumed earnestness, 'I do
assure you, Messire, that I knew nothing of my sister's project.'
'There was no time to put it before you, François,' rejoined
Marguerite. 'It arose in my brain even while you parleyed together
with Messire de Montigny and seemed unable to come to an
understanding.'
'Then what says Monseigneur now?' reiterated the Flemish lord curtly.
'Well!' drawled _Monsieur_ in his usual indecisive way, 'I say--I say
that----'
'François!' admonished Marguerite sharply.
He felt himself driven into a corner, from which procrastination
would no longer free him. In a manner the proposed adventure suited
his temperament, and in any case it would help to put off the final
and irrevocable decision. Therefore he was willing to fall in with
it. Sentimental dalliance was an art which he knew to his
finger-tips, and there was much in his sister's project which pleased
his lazy, pulpy nature. To sigh beneath a woman's window, to woo a
woman's love with honeyed words beneath a silken mask, to plan secret
meetings and steal to lovers' trysts at dead of night, had always
been an absorbing occupation for this degenerate prince. Now he felt
de Montigny's stern gaze fixed upon him and his sister's admonitions
rang in his ears. He knew that he had worn her love and patience
almost to a breaking thread. He threw a final appealing look on
Gilles de Crohin, but the latter's glance of amusement appeared as an
encouragement. Well, Gilles would know! Gilles would appreciate!
He, too, loved masks and casement-windows and fair women, tearful
with love. Gilles also loved fighting, so he could do that, if any
of it barred the way to _Monsieur's_ comfort and peace.
'François!' came once more, appealing yet severe, from Marguerite of
Navarre.
'What says Monseigneur?' reiterated de Montigny for the third time.
'I say that you have left me no choice, Messire,' quoth François due
d'Anjou at last. 'It shall be as my sister desires.'
V
What was said after this is not much to the point. Enough that de
Montigny yielded--very reluctantly, very slowly, be it admitted--but
still, he did yield, and Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, was triumphant
because she had got her way and because she would be allowed now to
weave one of those subtle and sentimental plots which was as the
breath of life to her inventive brain. She was also triumphant
because she felt that nothing now stood in the way of the ambitious
plans which she had framed for her favourite brother. She was
triumphant because she felt the romance which she had concocted for
his benefit would end in substantial gain for him--a richly-dowered
wife and a sovereignty as rich as a crown. Then, at last, when she
had won Messire de Montigny over absolutely and completely with her
ready wit and her glib tongue, she extended a gracious hand to the
somewhat shamefaced Fleming. 'Ah, Messire!' she said. 'You little
realize how much you have done for your country this day!'
'I certainly have sacrificed my sanity and my better judgment,' he
said gruffly. But he did bend the knee, and kissed the
delicately-perfumed hand.
'And Madame Jacqueline will be at Cambray?' she asked.
'She is at Cambray now,' he replied.
'Then _Monsieur_ had best repair thither right away. You yourself
will be there, Messire?'
'Not I, alas, Madame!' he replied. 'After I have seen my brother and
d'Inchy and obtained their consent to this wild-cat scheme, I join
the army of the Prince of Orange at Utrecht.'
'But you'll see that my brother has a safe conduct and is sure of a
welcome from Monseigneur d'Inchy?'
'Oh! d'Inchy will consent and so will my brother. They will make
Monseigneur quite welcome,' rejoined de Montigny with a sigh. 'All
of us would do much, Madame, in order to bring about this alliance,
on which we have set our hearts.'
He was as wax now in the hands of this fascinating intriguer. In his
heart of hearts he knew that sober reflection would come anon; he
knew that it would take much persuasion ere his brother, and the
other sober-minded Flemings who ruled the destinies of a great nation
and of a rich heiress, would finally consent to these wild and
romantic plans which had found their origin in an imaginative woman's
brain; he knew that, mayhap, when he returned to Cambray, he would
have to argue in his turn as the Queen of Navarre had argued with
him. But in the meanwhile, now that he had given in, he was man
enough and gentleman enough to fulfil his share of the bargain
loyally and completely.
'That's brave!' exclaimed Marguerite. 'And I entreat you, lose no
time. _Monsieur_ could start for Cambray this night.'
'Would Monseigneur go alone?' queried de Montigny.
'No, no,' broke in the Duke fretfully. 'I could not go unattended.
Think on it, Messire! A prince of the house of France!'
'Monseigneur would not, I presume, enter Cambray incognito with a
retinue of men-at-arms,' retorted the other with a grim smile.
'No! not a retinue,' he rejoined unperturbed. 'I'll have Gilles with
me and a serving-man; that is all.'
'Gilles?'
'Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont,' interposed Marguerite, as with
a graceful gesture of the hand she indicated Gilles, who still stood
silent and impassive in the corner of the room. 'This gallant
gentleman is devoted to Monsieur's service and accompanies him
wherever he goes.'
De Montigny's sharp, scrutinizing glance swept approvingly over
Gilles de Crohin's martial figure.
'Very well then, so be it,' he said. 'I will give a safe conduct to
Monseigneur under any name he will choose to assume, and one to
Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, who will travel as his
equerry. Is that what Madame la Reyne desires?'
'It is! It is!' cried Marguerite joyfully. 'Ah!' she added as she
directed a reproachful glance on her brother, 'dilatoriness is not a
part of your method, Messire de Montigny!'
'_Mon Dieu_, my good Margot!' quoth _Monsieur_ tartly. 'You do not
give Messire sufficient time to breathe.'
'Who wants to breathe,' she retorted gaily, 'when the destinies of
kingdoms are at stake? The safe conducts, Messire! The safe
conducts, I entreat! Why not sign them here and now?'
She jumped up from her chair, eager, young, full of vitality. In a
moment, with her own dainty hands, she had placed ink-horn, sand, a
quill, a sheet of paper upon the table.
'The safe conduct, Messire!' she reiterated excitedly. 'I vow that
I'll don male attire and start for Cambray with my brother this
night!'
And she would have done it, too, had not prudence dictated otherwise.
Her fine, clever face, however, was well known in this part of
Belgium. She had been at Cambray but a few weeks ago, moving heaven
and earth and stirring up those heavy Flemings to activity on behalf
of her brother. But she would have loved to be of that adventurous
party. The conception of it had been born in her brain; it was her
thing, her creation, her child, and she fretted at the thought that
her brother's indolence, his shiftlessness and indecision might even
yet jeopardize these glorious projects which she had formed.
'Sainte Vierge and chorus of angels, grant me patience!' she murmured
as she watched, frowning and fretful, the deliberate movements of M.
de Montigny. The Duc d'Anjou chortled quietly to himself. He loved
to see his impetuous sister fuming over the dilatoriness of another,
and now he gave a low cackle of delight when the Fleming first drew a
chair slowly to the table, then sat down and settled himself to
write. He next took up the quill pen, examined it, tested it on his
thumb-nail, turned the sheet of paper over and over. Obviously he
was not very much used to rapid caligraphy, and Marguerite's temper
was oozing out of her very finger-tips as she watched that quill pen
travelling with ponderous slowness along the paper.
'In what name shall I make out the safe-conduct?' he asked presently.
'Oh, ye gods!' exclaimed Marguerite impatiently. 'Any name,
Messire--or leave the name in blank----'
'I cannot do that,' rejoined de Montigny deliberately. 'M. d'Inchy,
who is governor of the city and of the province, would not wish it.
And since Monseigneur desires to enter Cambray incognito----'
'Any name will do,' she retorted.
'Still, I must have one----'
'Then, in God's name, make out the safe-conduct in the name of
Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, travelling with his equerry
Messire Gilles de Crohin and with his serving-man. Will that satisfy
Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy?'
De Montigny thought the matter over for a moment or two ere he
replied, wholly unperturbed, 'I think so.'
And thus did the document stand. A permit to enter the City of
Cambray was granted to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, to his
equerry Messire Gilles de Crohin and to his serving-man, by Edmond,
Sire de Montigny, acting on behalf of Roger, Baron d'Inchy, governor
of the province of Cambrésis, and safe conduct was assured them on
their way thither.[1]
[1] This document which Messire de Montigny made out and signed on
that memorable occasion is still preserved among the archives of the
City of Cambray. At any rate, it was still extant in the spring of
1914, when the writer of this veracious chronicle was granted a sight
of it. Since then the hordes of the modern Huns have swept over the
fair lands of Belgium and France. They may have destroyed these
archives as they did so much of what had historical and romantic
interest.
'Well! you have your wish, my dear sister,' was the Duc d'Anjou's
sole comment as he saw the look of impatience on Marguerite's fair
face give place to one of triumph and of joy.