THE OAK CABINET.
My reflections were of a somewhat chequered nature. The amorous
dalliance I had observed, and the conversation I had been forced to
overhear, shocked and cooled, while it exasperated me. On one hand I
found the Countess evidently taking money from officers, peers, and
gentlemen for titles and crosses cajoled from the facile king; and on
the other, I perceived her drawing from him intelligence concerning
the intended war against the Duke of Lorraine, in whose secret
interest she and her attendant, as natives of his duchy, were perhaps
naturally enough enlisted. Then I thought of my present
predicament--locked up in a secret cabinet, in a remote part of this
ancient château, where my outcries might be unheard. Clara might be
induced, or perhaps by circumstances compelled, to remain at
Versailles for a night; perhaps for three nights, or even longer!
The perspiration burst over me with this idea!
I was for duty next day at the Louvre, and if I did not appear---- I
strove to break open the door of the oak cabinet, but it was strong
and immovable as the face of a bastion.
While these thoughts were passing through my mind I heard a voice
singing the burden of the old provincial song,--
'Vive le tils d'Harlette,
Normands,
Vive le fils d'Harlette!'
and two cavaliers richly dressed, and each armed with sword and
dagger, and a pair of handsome pistols suspended by silver hooks from
their belts, entered laughing, and evidently bent on a frolic. In
one I recognized the Chevalier d'Ische. He was still pale from the
effects of his wound. The other, I had no doubt, was his companion
on that night of the brawl about the girl Nicola in the Place de la
Grève.
'Prince, are your pistols loaded?' asked the Chevalier.
'Mordieu! I should think so. But why?'
'Dost see the carved face on the door of that old worm-eaten cabinet?'
'A satyr's head among leaves--yes.'
''Tis just where a man's breast would be.'
'Well?'
'Ten louis to a denier you don't hit it, Prince.'
'Done! But how if the shot is heard?'
'Diable! what do I care?'
'But the Countess's antique cabinet!'
''Tis only an old wooden box at best.'
'But the Countess--'
'Tush!'
'What will she say?'
'Say--morbleu, M. le Prince--what she pleases. Will you fire?'
'Peste! since you will have it so,' muttered the other, drawing a
pistol from his girdle.
'You fear my challenge?'
'Tudieu! Chevalier, I fear nothing!'
The reader may imagine my sensations during this challenge to a trial
of skill. I remembered the story Raynold Cheyne and the Chevalier
Livingstone had told me, of our Marechal de Logis shooting a man in
the boot of the queen's carriage, at the Hotel de Sens; and though my
soul seemed to tremble within me, at the sudden prospect of death,
true to the spirit of honour and of the age, I held my breath, and
while my heart forgot to beat, I resolved to die rather than speak,
or disgrace the Countess by uttering a sound.
The Prince cocked and levelled his pistol.
The Chevalier uttered a loud laugh, arrested his arm, and springing
forward, unlocked and opened the door of the cabinet, saying,
'Come forth, M. Blane--by Jupiter, how pale you look!'
'Morbleu! but you are a gallant fellow!' exclaimed he (who was styled
Prince), with astonishment; 'I knew not that there was any one
within.'
'He is brave as Bayard! I knew of it, and did this but to test his
courage.'
'How knew you that I was in the cabinet, Chevalier?' I asked, leaping
out.
'Nicola, the Countess's attendant--'
'She with the beautiful hair?' said I.
'Ah--thou hast observed that!' said the Prince, knitting his brows.
'How could I fail to do so? Well, and the pretty Mademoiselle
Nicola--'
'Brought me the key of the cabinet, which, with a significant glance,
the Countess threw to her from the carriage unseen, as she drove off
with the King; and mademoiselle told me to release you. But, my
friend, to be one of the Scottish Guard, you are engaged in a
perilous game, I think. Peste! if King Louis discovers you playing
at bo-peep in Clara's apartment, I would not give much for your
chance of promotion, unless at the Place de la Grève.'
'These risks are my own, Chevalier,' I replied coldly; 'but pray what
Prince is this whom I have the honour of being before?'
'Your word of honour that you will not mention his name to any one?'
I gave the promise, laying a hand on my heart.
'Allow me to make known to each other,' said the Chevalier, with
somewhat of a mock reverence, 'M. Arthur Blane, of the Garde du Corps
Ecossais, and Monseigneur the Prince of Vaudemont.'
'Son of Charles IV. of Lorraine!' I exclaimed, aghast.
'The same--Duke Charles, for whom I am governor of the city of La
Mothe, and bailiff of Bassignie. Oho! we have been spending a jovial
month in Paris, overhearing and overseeing all King Louis' pretty
little preparations for a war upon the Rhine, and we shall be
delighted to see you in Lorraine, and all other brave gallants of the
Guard. Ma foi! but we will perfume your new moustaches for you!
To-morrow, or so, will be the grand ceremony of taking the terrible
banner of the oriflamme from St. Denis; but we shall see that too.
And now, my dear M. Blane, away to Paris as fast as you may! You are
acting rashly, as others have done before you; but beware of your
game, and that king Louis does not checkmate you; for this cabinet
has more than once led to the Bastille.'
'Thanks, M. d'Ische; but why do you concern yourself about me?'
'Because you are a bold fellow, whose hands can keep his head. But
away, I tell you; in Lorraine we will meet ere long, and try again
those little sword-thrusts which we exchanged so awkwardly on the
Quai de la Grève.'
'Come with us, monsieur,' said the Prince, a handsome and winning
young man, 'we have a fiacre in waiting to take me to Paris. We go
to Marion de l'Orme's to-night, disguised as officers of Swiss, and
we will set you down at the Pont de Notre Dame.'
'Allons,' said the Chevalier; 'let us begone then.'
An hour after this, we separated at the bridge of the Seine: they
wheeled off to the salons of the most beautiful but most dissipated
woman in Paris; whilst I, glad to be rid of companions so dangerous
as the spies and enemies of the King, returned slowly, thoughtfully,
and somewhat crest-fallen, to the Louvre.