"Where's Vigo?" he demanded.
"Somewhere about. I'll find him for monsieur."
"No, stay at your post. I'll find him."
He went straight across the court and in at the door he had sworn never
again to darken. Humility and repentance might have brought him there,
but it was the hand of mademoiselle drew him over the threshold without
a falter.
Alone in the hall was my little friend Marcel, throwing dice against
himself to while the time away. He sprang up at sight of us, agleam with
excitement.
"Well, Marcel," my master said, "and where is M. l'Écuyer?"
"I think in the stables, monsieur."
"Bid him come to me in the small cabinet."
He turned with accustomed feet into the room at the end of the hall
where Vigo kept the rolls of the guard. I, knowing it to be my duty to
keep close at hand lest I be wanted, followed. Soon Marcel came flying
back to say Vigo was on his way. M. Étienne thanked him, and he hung
about, longing to pump me, and, in my lord's presence, not quite daring,
till I took him by the shoulders and turned him out. I hate curiosity.
M. Étienne stood behind the table, looking his haughtiest. He was unsure
of a welcome from the contumacious Vigo; I read in his eyes a stern
determination to set this insolent servant in his place.
The big man entered, saluted, came straight over to his young lord's
side, no whit hesitating, and said, as heartily as if there had never
been a hard word between them:
"M. Étienne, I had liefer see you stand here than the king himself."
M. Étienne displayed the funniest face of bafflement. He had been
prepared to lash rudeness or sullenness, to accept, de haut en bas,
shamed contrition. But this easy cordiality took the wind out of his
sails. He stared, and then flushed, and then laughed. And then he held
out his hand, saying simply:
"Thank you, Vigo."
Vigo bent over to kiss it in cheerful ignorance of how that hand had
itched to box his ears.
"What became of you last night, M. Étienne?" he inquired.
"I was hunting Lucas. When does Monsieur return, Vigo?"
"He thought he might be back to-day. But he could not tell."
"Have you sent to tell him about me?" he asked, colouring.
"No, I couldn't do that," Vigo said. "You see, it is quite on the cards
that the Spanish gang may come hither to clean us out. I want every man
I have if they do."
"I understand that," M. Étienne said, "but--"
"So long as you are innocent a day or two matters not," Vigo
pronounced. "He will presently turn up here or send word that he will
not return till the king comes in. But since you are impatient, M. le
Comte, you can go to him at St. Denis. If _he_ can get through the gates
_you_ can."
"Aye, but I have business in Paris. I mean to join King Henry, Vigo.
There's glory going begging out there at St. Denis. It would like me
well to bear away my share. But--"
He broke off, to begin again abruptly:
"Ah, Vigo, that still tongue of yours! You knew, then, that there was
more cause of trouble between my father and me than the pistoles?"
"I knew he suspected you of a kindness for the League, monsieur. But you
are cured of that."
"There you are wrong. For I never had it, and I am not cured of it. If I
hung around the Hôtel de Lorraine, it was not for politics; it was for
petticoats."
Vigo made no answer, but the corners of his grim mouth twitched.
"That's no news, either? Well, then, since you know so much, you may as
well know more. Step up, Félix, and tell your tale."
I did as I was bid, M. Étienne now and then taking the words out of my
mouth in his eagerness, Vigo listening to us both with grave attention.
I had for the second time in my career the pleasure of startling him out
of his iron composure when I told him the true name and condition of
Lucas. But at the end of the adventure all the comment he made was:
"A fool for luck."
"Well," said M. Étienne, impatiently, "is that all you have to say? What
are we to do about it?"
"Do? Why, nothing."
"Nothing?" he cried, with his hand on his sword. "Nothing? And let that
scoundrel have her?"
"That is M. de Mayenne's affair," Vigo said. "We can't help it."
"I will help it!" M. Étienne declared. "Mordieu! Am I to let that
traitor, that spy, that soul of dirt, marry Mlle. de Montluc?"
"What Mayenne wishes he'll have," Vigo said. "Some day you will surely
get a chance to fight Lucas, monsieur."
"And meantime he is to enjoy her?"
"It is a pity," Vigo admitted. "But there is Mayenne. Can we storm the
Hôtel de Lorraine? No one can drink up the sea."
"One could if he wanted to as much as I want mademoiselle," my lord
declared.
But Vigo shook his head.
"Monsieur," he said gravely, "monsieur, you have a great chance. You
have a sword and a good cause to draw it in. What more should a man ask
in the world than that? Your father has been without it these three
years, and for want of it he has eaten his heart out. You have been
without it, and you have got yourself into all sorts of mischief. But
now all that is coming straight. King Henry is turning Catholic, so that
a man may follow him without offence to God. He is a good fellow and a
first-rate general. He's just out there, at St. Denis. There's your
place, M. Étienne."
"Not to-day, Vigo."
"Yes, M. Étienne, to-day. Be advised, monsieur," Vigo said with his
steady persistence. "There is nothing to gain by staying here to drink
up the sea. Mayenne will no more give your lady to you now than he would
give her to Félix. And you can no more carry her off than could Félix.
Mayenne will have you killed and flung into the Seine, as easy as eat
breakfast."
"And you bid me grudge my life? Strange counsel from you, Vigo."
"No, monsieur, but I bid you not throw it away. We all hope to die
afield, but we have a preference how and where. If you fell fighting for
Navarre, I should be sorry; Monsieur would grieve deep. But we should
say it was well; we grudged not your life to the country and the king.
While, if you fall in this fool affair--"
"I fall for my lady," M. Étienne finished. "The bravest captain of them
all does no better than that."
"M. Étienne, she is no wife for you. You cannot get her. And if you
could 'twere pity. She is a Ligueuse, and you from now on are a staunch
Kingsman. Give her up, monsieur. You have had this maggot in your brain
this four years. Once for all, get it out. Go to St. Denis; take your
troop among Biron's horse. That is the place for you. You will marry a
maid of honour and die a marshal of France."