HOW _MONSIEUR_ KEPT HIS WORD
I
When M. de Montigny--after much ponderous leavetaking--finally took
his departure, accompanied by Messire Gilles de Crohin, it is
positively averred that Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, forgot for a
moment her position and her dignity and danced around the narrow room
like a child who has had its way after much fighting and arguing. It
is even said that she dragged her dearly-loved François up from his
chair and that, seizing both his hands, she forced him to join her in
a whirl which literally swept him off his feet, raised a cloud of
dust from the old wooden floor, and finally sent him sprawling and
dizzy, and thoroughly out of temper, up against the table, from
whence he poured a volley of abuse upon his devoted sister.
But I have oft marvelled if this story be true, for, of a truth,
there was no one there to witness these events, and Queen Margot
herself never put them on record. But there was Messire Gilles, and
where he was at the moment I, for one, cannot say. He did accompany
Messire de Montigny as far as the courtyard, and saw that noble
Fleming ride off with an obviously heavy heart, after what had only
been a partially successful errand. We are not going to suppose that
Messire Gilles paused on his way back to the apartments of his
princely master in order to listen at the keyhole. He was more like
to have kicked open the door with scant ceremony and seen the young
Queen of Navarre dancing a rigadoon in the middle of the floor with
her reluctant brother. Certain it is, that anon he did stand there
under the lintel, coughing and spluttering as the dust caught in his
throat, and coughing so loudly, be it said, that the noise which he
made drowned some of _Monsieur's_ most sanguinary expletives. The
next moment he had once more entered the room and closed the door
behind him; and Marguerite paused in her mad dance in order to clap
her hands gleefully together.
'Ah, Messire Gilles!' she exclaimed excitedly. 'Is it not wonderful?
Is it not great? All arranged, and both Monsieur and that tiresome
Fleming satisfied! Is it not a triumph, I say?'
'A triumph, indeed, your Majesty!' replied Gilles with a grim smile.
''Tis only our chief actor, methinks, who doth not look overjoyed.'
'I know,' rejoined Marguerite, with a sigh. 'But, then, Monsieur
never really looks pleased. So I entreat you, Messire, remain with
him now and make all arrangements for the journey to-morrow. Nay!
'twere far better you started this very night, slept and rested at
St. Quentin and arrived at Cambray the day after to-morrow. I leave
you with Messire Gilles, François,' she added, turning to Monsieur
who, ill-humoured and still growling like a frowsy dog, was putting
his rumpled toilet in order. 'Let him make all arrangements for your
journey. He is always of good counsel.'
'Good counsel!' muttered _Monsieur_. 'Good counsel! I am sick to
death of good counsels. Had I been left to myself----'
'Nothing would have happened, _c'est entendu_,' she riposted gaily.
'Nay! you'll not damp my ardour again, François; and you cannot deny
that I have satisfied M. de Montigny whilst keeping my solemn promise
to you. So I leave you now with Messire Gilles. The way is
prepared. And, remember,' she added earnestly, 'that you are pledged
to me as I was to you. I have fulfilled my share of the bargain. If
you fail me now, I will never look upon your face again!'
II
As soon as Marguerite de Navarre had gone from the room, Gilles de
Crohin drew a folded missive from inside his doublet and handed it to
Monsieur.
'Just came by messenger from Paris,' he said curtly.
_Monsieur_ snatched eagerly at the missive. It had been carefully
folded into a tiny compass, tied with a shell-pink ribbon and sealed
with mauve-coloured wax. _Monsieur_ broke the seal and read the
letter. A flush--which might have been one of pleasure, of
excitement or of anger, or of all three combined--spread over his
face. He read the letter again, and a dark frown appeared between
his brows. Then he looked up into the face of the one faithful
friend whom his many treacheries had not driven from his side.
'Gilles,' he said dolefully, 'I cannot go to Cambray.'
'I thought as much, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles dryly. 'That letter
is from Madame de Marquette.'
'It is, my good Gilles,' sighed _Monsieur_. 'It is!' Then as Gilles
said nothing, he added fretfully: 'She had promised to let me know as
soon as Monsieur le Comte, her husband, would be absent from Paris.'
'Ah!' was Gilles' simple comment. 'And is M. le Comte de Marquette
absent from Paris at this moment?'
'Cooling his heels in the dungeons of Vincennes, my good Gilles,'
replied _Monsieur_ lightly.
'Ah!' uttered Gilles once more; this time without any comment.
'Yes. I let His Majesty, my brother, know indirectly of certain
doings of Monsieur de Marquette. I have no doubt, therefore, that
that estimable worthy is incarcerated at Vincennes by now.'
'Under a false charge of conspiracy?'
'False? No!' retorted _Monsieur_. 'Doth he not conspire to keep his
charming wife a virtual prisoner in his own palace?'
'Therefore he is to be kept a real prisoner under a denunciation from
_Monsieur_ le Duc d'Alençon and d'Anjou,' riposted Gilles dryly.
'Oh! not a denunciation, my good Gilles!' said _Monsieur_, wholly
unperturbed. 'I only gave His Majesty a hint that M. de Marquette
was not quite so faithful a subject as one would desire.'
'And the hint has landed M. de Marquette in Vincennes rightly enough.'
'Apparently,' concluded _Monsieur_ placidly, as he held the
delicately-scented missive of Madame de Marquette to his nose. 'So
you see, my good Gilles,' he continued after a slight pause, 'how
inconvenient it will be for me to go a-wooing a ponderous Flemish
wench just now. Madame de Marquette is so dainty, so exquisite,
so--so--what shall I say? ... What would you do, now, Gilles?' he
added, with a sudden change of tone, 'if you were in my shoes?'
'Oh, I, Monseigneur,' quoth Gilles, with a careless shrug of the
shoulders. 'Not being a prince of the blood I would probably stick
to my promise and go and woo the Flemish wench at Cambray.'
'I believe you would, you dog!' retorted _Monsieur_ with a yawn.
'And then hurry back to Paris, eh, in order to console Madame de
Marquette?'
'Possibly, Monseigneur,' concluded Gilles simply.
'Well, then, the only difference 'twixt you and me, my dear
Gilles--that is, 'twixt your moral sentiments and mine--is that I'll
hie me first to console Madame de Marquette, and having done that,
I'll--I'll----'
'Gravely offend the most devoted of sisters, Queen Marguerite of
Navarre,' broke in Gilles quickly.
'Yes,' admitted _Monsieur_. 'I imagine that dear Margot will be in
one of her most fretting humours when she finds that I am half-way to
Paris instead of to Cambray. She hath vowed that if I fail her now
in her schemes she'll never look on my face again. And she
won't--for at least six months,' he added peevishly. 'Trust her for
that! Margot is nothing if not obstinate! And my chance of getting
a rich wife and some rich provinces of these accursed Netherlands
will have vanished for ever. Ah, Gilles! my good Gilles!' he
concluded, with naïve induction. 'You see what comes of it, if a man
allows himself to be overruled by women!'
'Well!' retorted the other with a careless laugh. 'Meseems that
Monseigneur hath not much cause to quarrel with his fate this time.
King of the Netherlands!' he exclaimed, and gave a long, low whistle
of appreciation. ''Tis no small matter----'
'Bah!' rejoined _Monsieur_ with a shrug of the shoulders. 'To be a
king among these dull-witted, slow-going Flemings is not altogether
an enviable existence. Would you care for it, Gilles?'
'Oh, I, Monseigneur?' riposted Gilles gaily. 'I have so few kingly
attributes.'
'Better to be Duc d'Alençon in Paris, eh, than King in Antwerp or in
Ghent? Brrr!' added _Monsieur_, with a mock shudder. 'Think of the
Flemish women, my good man!'
'I have thought of them, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles dryly, 'once or
twice since we came into Flanders.'
'Well! and what did you think of them?'
'That God has fashioned uglier ones.'
'Where?'
'In many places--even in Paris.'
'Not often, Gilles.'
'I'll grant that, Monseigneur, an you command.'
'Now this Jacqueline, for instance----'
'Madame Jacqueline, Monseigneur?'
'Yes!' And Monseigneur sighed. 'I have got to marry her, Gilles, if
I wish for the sovereignty of the Netherlands.'
'Messire de Montigny hath been at pains to tell us, Monseigneur, that
Madame Jacqueline is very beautiful--very beautiful, an it please
you.'
'It would please me if she were beautiful. But have you ever seen a
beautiful Fleming, Gilles?'
Gilles de Crohin was silent.
'Have you, Gilles?' insisted the Duke.
'Yes, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles curtly. 'Once.'
'The devil you did! Where?'
'In the land of dreams, Monseigneur.'
'Then it could not have been Madame Jacqueline. She is reality,
alas! Ponderous reality, I fear! I have got to woo her, Gilles.'
'Yes, Monseigneur.'
'Under a mask and an assumed name.'
'No better way hath yet been found for wooing a wench.'
'I shall have to sing and sigh beneath a casement, and by the light
of the moon risk breaking my neck in trying to climb up to a window.'
''Twill not be the first time Monseigneur hath done any of these
things, and with a less worthy object to boot.'
'But this time, Gilles, I might be so much better employed in
consoling Madame de Marquette for the absence of her lord.'
'Whereas, now, Monseigneur will have to send word back by the
messenger--who, by the way, still waits below--that the denunciation
against M. de Marquette was an error, and that you desire his
immediate release.'
'Gilles!' retorted _Monsieur_ coolly, 'have you become an idiot?'
'I didn't think so, Monseigneur.'
'Very well, then, do not talk as one. M. de Marquette cannot be
better occupied than in cooling his heels at Vincennes. I am going
to Paris, Gilles, in order to explain this to a charming grass-widow.'
'Yes, Monseigneur. When?'
'To-night.'
'Monseigneur goes to Paris to-night?'
'Yes. I have said so.'
'And Monseigneur means it?'
'_Mon Dieu_! Of course I mean it! You don't suppose that I am going
to allow that exquisite Madame de Marquette to pine away in solitude,
do you?'
'But Madame Jacqueline, Monseigneur?' protested Gilles de Crohin.
'The crown of the Netherlands----'
'Madame Jacqueline may go to the devil, Gilles, and the crown of the
Netherlands after her----'
'But, Madame la Reyne----!'
'Ah! that is another matter. My dear sister can go to the devil if
she likes, but I cannot send her thither. You must remain here and
explain matters to her, Gilles.'
'I, Monseigneur?' exclaimed Gilles, very much crestfallen at this
prospect.
'Yes. Not to-night, of course. To-morrow morning. I shall be a
long way off by then--too far for her to run after me and bring me
back like a whipped schoolboy; which, I doubt not, she were quite
capable of doing! Once I get to Paris, I'll take care that she does
not find me, and she'll have to pacify these tiresome Flemings as
best she can.'
Gilles de Crohin looked down for a moment or two on the sprawling
figure of the master whom he served--the long, loose limbs stretched
out lazily, the narrow shoulders decked in exquisite satin, the
perfumed beard, the delicate hands, the full, sensual lips and weak
chin and jaw which characterized this last descendant of the Valois.
But not a line of his own strong, rugged face betrayed just what he
thought, and after a while he resumed in his dry, quiet way:
'I doubt, Monseigneur, that the tiresome Flemings will allow
themselves to be pacified--nor will Madame la Reyne de Navarre, I'm
thinking,' he muttered under his bristling moustache.
'She must, and they must, my good Gilles,' riposted _Monsieur_
airily; and, with a wide gesture of his beringed hand, he appeared to
wave aside all the obstacles which threatened the even course of his
path of pleasure. '_Mordieu_, man! If you are going to raise
difficulties----' he said.
'The difficulties are there, Monseigneur. I am not raising them.'
'Well, then, you will have to smoothe them down for me, that's all!
What do I pay you for?' he added roughly.
'I was not aware that Monseigneur was paying me for anything,'
replied Gilles good-humouredly; 'or had paid me anything these three
years past.'
'Then why do you serve me, I wonder?'
'I have oft wondered, too!' rejoined Gilles calmly.
'My brother Henri would pay you better; so would my brother-in-law of
Navarre.'
'That's just it, Monseigneur. Since there is not much fighting to do
just now, other princes would pay me for doing dirty work for them,
no doubt. But, being constituted as I am, if I have to do dirty work
for any one I would sooner not be paid for doing it. This may sound
curious morality, but so it is.'
The Duke laughed.
'Morality? From you, my good Gilles?'
'It does sound incongruous, does it not, Monseigneur?' said Gilles
placidly. 'A soldier of fortune, like myself, cannot of a truth
afford to have any morality. Mine consists in forgetting the many
sins which I have committed and leaving others to commit theirs in
peace.'
'Admirable in sentiment, my friend,' concluded _Monsieur_, with a
cynical laugh. 'You will, therefore, leave me in peace to join
Madame de Marquette, if I wish?'
'How can I prevent it, Monseigneur?'
'You cannot. But you can serve me by conciliating my sister during
my absence.'
'I will serve Monseigneur to the best of my ability.'
'Very well, then. I start for Paris this night.'
'So Monseigneur hath already deigned to say.'
'I will let my sister understand that you and I are starting for
Cambray. She will be overjoyed. You will ride with me as far as
Noyon, and then under cover of the darkness you will return hither.'
'Yes, Monseigneur?'
'To-morrow, during the forenoon--not too early, remember--you will
seek audience of Her Majesty and explain to her that unavoidable
business caused me to change my mind at the eleventh hour; that I
have gone--whither you know not--but that I shall return within a few
weeks, or a few months, as soon as I have tired of my present
business, and that in the meanwhile I adjure her, as she loves me, to
keep those stodgy Flemings in a good humour. You understand?'
'I understand, Monseigneur.'
'Of course, Madame Marguerite will fume and fret----'
'Of course.'
'She will also probably throw books, or a slipper, or a cushion at
your head----'
'Or the fire-irons, Monseigneur'
'But you won't mind that----'
'On the contrary, I shall enjoy it.'
'The more my sister frets the quicker will her choler be over.'
'The quicker, too, will the furniture of the hostel be smashed to
pieces.'
'And when she hath calmed down, you and she can sit together quietly
and make plans for the conciliation of my future loyal Flemish
subjects.'
'I shall greatly look forward to so peaceful a _tête-à-tête_.'
'Then, that's settled!' concluded _Monsieur_ airily, as he finally
rose from his chair, yawned and stretched. '_Palsambleu!_ what a day
of it I have had! Own to it, my good Gilles, I have well deserved a
holiday and the company of Madame de Marquette after all this
business and the scoldings and objurgations of my impetuous sister!'
'I doubt not, Monseigneur,' responded Gilles dryly, 'that Fate will,
as usual, be kind and give you the full measure of your deserts.'
'Amen to that, my friend. Now, see to it that we get to horse within
the hour. I'll to my dear Margot and receive her embraces and her
praises for my readiness. And, remember,' he added warningly, just
as Gilles, turning on his heel, was striding towards the door, 'that
you will have to impress it upon Her Majesty most emphatically in
your interview to-morrow that it will be no use her trying to find
out where I am. Madame de Marquette and I will be beyond her reach.
Between you and me, my good Gilles, I know of a cosy nest where----'
But Gilles de Crohin was apparently no longer in a mood to listen
patiently to his Royal master's rigmarole.
'What about the safe conduct?' he broke in curtly. And he pointed to
the papers which Messire de Montigny had been at such pains to
complete.
'Oh! put it away, my good Gilles,' replied _Monsieur_ carelessly.
'Put it away! It will be very handy a month hence, or two months, or
three, when I am ready to go and woo that very solid Flemish maid.'
Without another word, Gilles de Crohin picked up the safe-conduct,
folded it carefully and slipped it into the inner pocket of his
doublet. Then, after a somewhat perfunctory obeisance, he strode out
of the room.
_Monsieur_ listened in complacent silence to the firm footsteps as
they gradually died away down the corridor. Then he shrugged his
shoulders and whistled softly to himself.
'A good fellow, that Gilles,' he murmured. 'I wonder what my dear
sister will do to him to-morrow when she hears----?'