He slackened his pace as he heard footsteps overtake him, and where a
beam of light shone out from an open door he wheeled about, thinking me
a footpad.
"You, Félix?"
"Yes, monsieur; I go with M. le Comte."
"I have not permitted you."
"Then must I go in despite. Monsieur is wounded; I cannot leave him to
go unsquired."
"There are lackeys to hire. I bade you seek M. le Duc."
"Is not monsieur a thought unreasonable? I cannot be in two places at
once. Monsieur can send a letter. The duke has Vigo and a household. I
go with M. le Comte."
"Oh," he cried, "you are a faithful servant! We are ridden to death by
our faithful servants, we St. Quentins. Myself, I prefer fleas!" He
added, growing angrier, "Will you leave me?"
"No, monsieur," said I.
He glowered at me and I think he had some notion of chasing me away with
his sword. But since his dignity could not so stoop, he growled:
"Come, then, if you choose to come unasked and most unwelcome!"
With this he walked on a yard ahead of me, never turning his head nor
saying a word, I following meekly, wondering whither, and devoutly
hoping it might be to supper. Presently I observed that we were in a
better quarter of the town, and before long we came to a broad,
well-lighted inn, whence proceeded a merry chatter and rattle of dice.
M. Étienne with accustomed feet turned into the court at the side, and
seizing upon a drawer who was crossing from door to door despatched him
for the landlord. Mine host came, fat and smiling, unworried by the hard
times, greeted Yeux-gris with acclaim as "this dear M. le Comte,"
wondered at his long absence and bloody shirt, and granted with all
alacrity his three demands of a supper, a surgeon, and a bed. I stood
back, ill at ease, aching at the mention of supper, and wondering
whether I were to be driven off like an obtrusive puppy. But when M. le
Comte, without glancing at me, said to the drawer, "Take care of my
serving-man," I knew my stomach was safe.
That was the most I thought of then, I do confess, for, except for my
sausage, I had not tasted food since morning. The barber came and
bandaged M. le Comte and put him straight to bed, and I was left free to
fall on the ample victuals set before me, and was so comfortable and
happy that the Rue Coupejarrets seemed like an evil dream. Since that
day I have been an easy mark for beggars if they could but manage to
look starved.
Presently came a servant to say that my bed was spread in M. le Comte's
room, and up-stairs ran I with an utterly happy heart, for I saw by this
token that I was forgiven. Indeed, no sooner had I got fairly inside
the door than my master raised himself on his sound elbow and called
out:
"Ah, Félix, do you bear me malice for an ungrateful churl?"
"I bear malice?" I cried, flushing. "Monsieur is mocking me. I know
monsieur cannot love me, since I attempted his life. Yet my wish is to
be allowed to serve him so faithfully that he can forget it."
"Nay," he said; "I have forgotten it. And it was freely forgiven from
the moment I saw Lucas at my cousin's side."
"For the second time," I said, "monsieur saved my life." And I dropped
on my knees beside the bed to kiss his hand. But he snatched it away
from me and flung his arm around my neck and kissed my cheek.
"Félix," he cried, "but for you my hands would be red with my father's
blood. You rescued him from death and me from worse. If I have any
shreds of honour left 'tis you have saved them to me."
"Monsieur," I stammered, "I did naught. I am your servant till I die."
"You deserve a better master. What am I? Lucas's puppet! Lucas's fool!"
"Monsieur, it was not Lucas alone. It was a plot. You know what he
said--"
"Aye," he cried with bitter vehemence. "I shall remember for some time
what he said. They would not kill me to make my cousin Valère duke! He
was a man. But I--nom de dieu, I was not worth the killing."
"It is the League's scheming, monsieur."
"Oh, that does not need the saying. Secretaries don't plot against
dukedoms on their own account. Some high man is behind Lucas--I dare
swear his Grace of Mayenne himself. It is no secret now where Monsieur
stands. Yet the king's party grows so strong and the mob so cheers
Monsieur, the League dare not strike openly. So they put a spy in the
house to choose time and way. And the spy would not stab, for he saw he
could make me do his work for him. He saw I needed but a push to come to
open breach with my father. He gave the push. Oh, he could make me pull
his chestnuts from the fire well enough, burning my hands so that I
could never strike a free blow again. I was to be their slave, their
thrall forever!"
"Never that, monsieur; never that!"
"I am not so sure," he cried. "Had it not been for the advent of a stray
boy from Picardie, I trow Lucas would have put his purpose through. I
was blindfolded; I saw nothing. I knew my cousin Gervais to be morose
and cruel; yet I had done him no harm; I had always stood his friend. I
thought him shamefully used; I let myself be turned out of my father's
house to champion him. I had no more notion he was plotting my ruin than
a child playing with his dolls. I was their doll, mordieu! their toy,
their crazy fool on a chain. But life is not over yet. To-morrow I go to
pledge my sword to Henry of Navarre."
"Monsieur, if he comes to the faith--"
"Mordieu! faith is not all. Were he a pagan of the wilderness he were
better than these Leaguers. He fights honestly and bravely and
generously. He could have had the city before now, save that he will not
starve us. He looks the other way, and the provision-trains come in. But
the Leaguers, with all their regiments, dare not openly strike down one
man,--one man who has come all alone into their country,--they put a spy
into his house to eat his bread and betray him; they stir up his own kin
to slay him, that it may not be called the League's work. And they are
most Catholic and noble gentlemen! Nay, I am done with these pious
plotters who would redden my hands with my father's blood and make me
outcast and despised of all men. I have spent my playtime with the
League; I will go work with Henry of Navarre!"