_Mademoiselle._
I went to find Maître Menard, to urge upon him that some one should stay
with M. Étienne while I was gone, lest he swooned or became
light-headed. But the surgeon himself was present, having returned from
bandaging up some common skull to see how his noble patient rested. He
promised that he would stay the night with M. le Comte; so, eased of
that care, I set out for the Hôtel de Lorraine, one of the inn-servants
with a flambeau coming along to guide and guard me. M. Étienne was a
favourite in this inn of Maître Menard's; they did not stop to ask
whether he had money in his purse before falling over one another in
their eagerness to serve him. It is my opinion that one gets more out of
the world by dint of fair words than by a long purse or a long sword.
We had not gone a block from the inn before I turned to the right-about,
to the impatience of my escort.
"Nay, Jean, I must go back," I said. "I will only delay a moment, but
see Maître Menard I must."
He was still in the cabaret where the crowd was thinning.
"Now what brings you back?"
"This, maître," said I, drawing him into a corner. "M. le Comte has been
in a fracas to-night, as you perchance may have divined. His arch-enemy
gave us the slip. And I am not easy for monsieur while this Lucas is at
large. He has the devil's own cunning and malice; he might track him
here to the Three Lanterns. Therefore, maître, I beg you to admit no one
to M. le Comte--no one on any business whatsoever. Not if he comes from
the Duke of Mayenne himself."
"I won't admit the Sixteen themselves," the maître declared.
"There is one man you may admit," I conceded. "Vigo, M. de St. Quentin's
equery. You will know him for the biggest man in France."
"Good. And this other; what is he like?"
"He is young," I said, "not above four or five and twenty. Tall and
slim,--oh, without doubt, a gentleman. He has light-brown hair and thin,
aquiline face. His tongue is unbound, too."
"His tongue shall not get around me," Maître Menard promised. "The host
of the Three Lanterns was not born yesterday let me tell you."
With this comforting assurance I set out once more on my expedition
with, to tell truth, no very keen enthusiasm for the business. It was
all very well for M. Étienne to declare grandly that as recompense for
my trouble I should see Mlle. de Montluc. But I was not her lover and I
thought I could get along very comfortably without seeing her. I knew
not how to bear myself before a splendid young noblewoman. When I had
dashed across Paris to slay the traitor in the Rue Coupejarrets I had
not been afraid; but now, going with a love-message to a girl, I was
scared.
And there was more than the fear of her bright eyes to give me pause. I
was afraid of Mlle. de Montluc, but more afraid of M. de Mayenne's
cousin. What mocking devil had driven Étienne de Mar, out of a whole
France full of lovely women, to fix his unturnable desire on this
Ligueuse of Mayenne's own brood? Had his father's friends no daughters,
that he must seek a mistress from the black duke's household? Were there
no families of clean hands and honest speech, that he must ally himself
with the treacherous blood of Lorraine?
I had seen a sample of the League's work to-day, and I liked it not. If
Mayenne were, as Yeux-gris surmised, Lucas's backer, I marvelled that my
master cared to enter his house; I marvelled that he cared to send his
servant there. Yet I went none the less readily for that; I was here to
do his bidding. Nor was I greatly alarmed for my own skin; I thought
myself too small to be worth my Lord Mayenne's powder. And I had, I do
confess, a lively curiosity to behold the interior of the greatest house
in Paris, the very core and centre of the League. Belike if it had not
been for terror of this young demoiselle I had stepped along cheerfully
enough.
Though the hour was late, many people still loitered in the streets,
the clear summer night, and all of them were talking politics. As Jean
and I passed at a rapid pace the groups under the wine-shop lanterns, we
caught always the names of Mayenne and Navarre. Everywhere they asked
the same two questions: Was it true that Henry was coming into the
Church? And if so, what would Mayenne do next? I perceived that old
Maître Jacques of the Amour de Dieu knew what he was talking about: the
people of Paris were sick to death of the Leagues and their intriguery,
galled to desperation under the yoke of the Sixteen.
Mayenne's fine new hôtel in the Rue St. Antoine was lighted as for a
fête. From its open windows came sounds of gay laughter and rattling
dice. You might have thought them keeping carnival in the midst of a
happy and loyal city. If the Lieutenant-General found anything to vex
him in the present situation, he did not let the commonalty know it.
The Duke of Mayenne's house, like my duke's, was guarded by men-at-arms;
but his grilles were thrown back while his soldiers lounged on the stone
benches in the archway. Some of them were talking to a little knot of
street idlers who had gathered about the entrance, while others, with
the aid of a torch and a greasy pack of cards, were playing lansquenet.
I knew no way to do but to ask openly for Mlle. de Montluc, declaring
that I came on behalf of the Comte de Mar.
"That is right; you are to enter," the captain of the guard replied at
once. "But you are not the Comte de Mar yourself? Nay, no need to ask,"
he added with a laugh. "A pretty count you would make."
"I am his servant," I said. "I am charged with a message for
mademoiselle."
"Well, my orders were to admit the count, but I suppose you may go in.
If mademoiselle cannot land her lover it were cruel to deny her the
consolation of a message."
A laugh went up and one of the gamblers looked round to say:
"It has gone hard with mademoiselle lately, sangdieu! Here's the Comte
de Mar has not set foot in the house for a month or more, and M. Paul
for a quarter of a year is vanished off the face of the earth. It seemed
as if she must take the little cheese or nothing. But now things are
looking up with her. M. Paul has walked calmly in, and here is a
messenger at least from the other."
"But M. Paul has walked calmly out again," a third soldier took up the
tale. "He did not stay very long, for all mademoiselle's graces."
"Then I warrant 'twas mademoiselle sent him off with a flea in his
ear," another cried. "She looks higher than a bastard, even Le Balafré's
own."
"She had better take care how she flouts Paul de Lorraine," came the
retort, but the captain bade me march along. I followed him into the
house, leaving Jean to be edified, no doubt, by a whole history, false
and true, concerning Mlle. de Montluc. We bow down before the lofty of
the earth, we underlings, but behind their backs there is none with
whose names we make so free. And there we have the advantage of our
masters; for they know little of our private matters while we know
everything of theirs.
In the hall the captain turned me over to a lackey who conducted me
through a couple of antechambers to a curtained doorway whence issued a
merry confusion of voices and laughter. He passed in while I remained to
undergo the scrutiny of the pair of flunkies whose repose we had
invaded. But in a moment my guide appeared again, lifting the curtain
for me to enter.
The big room was ablaze with candles set in mirrored sconces along the
walls, set also in silver candelabra on the tables. There was a crowd of
people in the place, a hundred it seemed to my dazzled eyes; grouped,
most of them, about the tables set up and down, either taking hands
themselves at cards or dice or betting on those who did. Bluff soldiers
in breastplate and jack-boots were not wanting in the throng, but the
larger number of the gallants were brave in silken doublets and spotless
ruffs, as became a noble's drawing-room. And the ladies! mordieu, what
am I to say of them? Tricked out in every gay colour under the sun,
agleam with jewels--eh bien, the ladies of St. Quentin, that I had
thought so fine, were but serving-maids to these.
I stood blinking, dazed by the lights and the crowd and the chatter,
unable in the first moment to note clearly any face in the congregation
of strange countenances. Nor would it have helped me if I could, for
here close about were a dozen fair women, any one of whom might be
Mlle. de Montluc. My heart hammered in my throat. I knew not whom to
address. But a young noble near by, dazzling in a suit of pink, took the
burden on himself.
"I heard Mar's name; yet you are not M. de Mar, I think."
He spoke with a languid but none the less teasing derision. In truth, I
must have resembled a little brown hare suddenly turned out of a bag in
the midst of that gorgeous company.
"No," I stammered; "I am his servant. I seek Mlle. de Montluc."
"I have wondered what has become of Étienne de Mar this last month,"
spoke a second young gentleman, advancing from his place behind a fair
one's chair. He was neither so pretty nor so fine as the other, but in
his short, stocky figure and square face there was a force which his
comrade lacked. He regarded me with a far keener glance as he asked:
"Peste! he must be in low water if this is the best he can do for a
lackey."
"Perhaps the fellow's errand is to beg an advance from Mlle. de
Montluc," suggested the pink youth.
"Who speaks my name?" a clear voice called; and a lady, laying down her
hand at cards, rose and came toward me.
She was clad in amber satin. She was tall, and she carried herself with
stately grace. Her black hair shadowed a cheek as purely white and pink
as that of any yellow-locked Frisian girl, while her eyes, under their
sooty lashes, shone blue as corn-flowers.