THE CONSERVE CLOSET
Eight o’clock sounding from the Théatins near by brought me out of
my revery. I reflected that it would be well to employ the two hours
remaining in examining the gardens of the Palais Royal and the building
itself, in so far as possible, on the same principle which makes the
general attentively study the field upon which he is placing his
forces. I therefore donned again the gray suit I had worn two evenings
before, and buckling a sword to my belt, called Jacques, told him where
I was going in case Richelieu should return and ask for me, and left
the house. The weather had continued warm and a full moon silvered the
city with a magic touch. It seemed to me that everybody was in the
streets. The Quai Malaquest was crowded, even the steps leading down
to the water and the broad landing-places being filled with people
watching the boats dropping down the river or painfully making way
against it.
The Hotel de Mailly, just opposite the Pont Royal, was a blaze of
light, and I saw that some fête was in progress. It was with difficulty
that I crossed the bridge, the press of carriages and throng of foot
passengers being so great that they threatened at times to burst over
the parapets. I finally won across and passed before the Tuileries,
casting a glance at the entrance of Madame du Maine’s salon, which was
brilliantly lighted as ever. Here, too, there was a great crowd, for
the gardens of the Tuileries were a popular pleasure-ground, and in the
evenings, even in severe weather, were thronged with people who had no
opportunity during the day of drawing a breath of pure air. The Rue
St. Vincent brought me out upon the Rue St. Honoré, the busiest street
in the great city, and down this I turned, and soon reached the Palais
Royal.
I was already familiar with that portion of the building which fronted
on the Rue St. Honoré, extending in a line broken only by the great
entrance from the Rue de Richelieu to the Bons Enfants, for I had
passed it more than once in my wanderings of the week I was alone in
Paris. It was in the gardens at the back and the buildings facing
them that I was most concerned, for I knew that the apartments of the
regent’s daughter must be somewhere in that part of the palace. I
turned down the Rue de Richelieu and entered the gardens through one
of the innumerable entrances which pierced the buildings along this
street. The broad avenues of stately chestnuts were thronged with
cavaliers and ladies, sumptuously dressed, many of them wearing masks,
from which I judged that ours were not the only love-affairs afoot. But
without pausing to more than glance at them, I approached the palace
and examined it intently.
At the right was a low wall enclosing a square in which were several
flower-beds, a fountain, and an avenue of trees. This I judged to be
a private park. The buildings on either side of this small garden
had blank walls, the windows having evidently been omitted to insure
greater privacy. The row of buildings fronting it, however, was lofty
and elegant, and built in a semi-detached fashion. I argued that I
could hardly be wrong in supposing these to be the apartments of the
members of the regent’s family.
Further examination confirmed this. To the left of the small garden
was a lofty building which resembled nothing so much as a soldier’s
barracks, and to the left of this again a high wall pierced by seven
gate-ways gave entrance to the inner court, which I did not attempt to
penetrate. Still farther to the left, and counterbalancing the space
occupied by the garden at the right, was another row of tall and ugly
buildings, which I decided were occupied by the servants of the palace
and attendants of the regent.
Having completed this survey, I turned my attention to the gardens. A
broad avenue of chestnuts extended along either side. Between these
avenues were wide lawns where many flower-beds doubtless bloomed in
summer, and in the middle of the garden was a circular pool in which
was a fountain. Farther down the avenue and near the end of the gardens
I came to the dryad fountain, which awakened in me so sweet a memory
that I lingered by it.
“M. de Brancas appears to be thoughtful to-night,” said a low, clear
voice at my elbow.
I turned with a start and saw a masked lady standing beside me, but the
voice and the beating of my heart told me in an instant who she was.
“Ah, Mlle. Dacour,” I exclaimed, bowing before her, “shall I tell you
of what I was thinking? It was of a night not long ago when on this
very spot I met the lady whom I love and whom I am dying to serve.”
“Not so loud, monsieur,” she commanded; “do you not see by this mask
that I wish to remain unrecognized? Come, let us move away from here.
’Tis not yet time for the rendezvous.”
“Would it were hours away instead of minutes, mademoiselle,” I cried,
“if it were permitted me to walk with you here!” and I gave her my arm,
vainly endeavoring to put into words the emotion which I felt. Perhaps
she understood, for she leaned against me lightly, and I caught the
sweet, faint perfume of her hair.
“M. le Duc will be here, will he not?” she asked.
“I trust so, mademoiselle,” I answered. “As I suppose you know, he was
released from the Bastille yesterday and ordered to join his regiment
at Bayonne. But he assured me that he would be at the fountain at ten
o’clock to-night.”
“Then he will be there,” said Mlle. Dacour, lightly. “Do you know,
monsieur, I am beginning to believe that you and Richelieu have the
power of achieving everything upon which you really set your hearts.”
“Would that I could believe so, mademoiselle!” I cried. “There is one
thing above all others upon which I have set my heart. Do you believe I
shall achieve that also?”
“How can I tell,” she answered, glancing at me with mischievous eyes,
“not knowing what this wonderful something is?”
“But can you not guess, mademoiselle?” I was trembling with joy and
apprehension, a trembling which she must have felt, for she quickened
her pace.
“Let us postpone the riddle, M. de Brancas,” she said. “’Tis time for
us to be at the fountain,” and we turned our steps thither.
I dared say nothing further, for I could not guess what was in her
heart and had not the courage to risk a rebuff. The sauntering couples
had grown less numerous as the night grew colder. Ah, had they held in
their hearts the flame of a love like mine no stress of weather could
have driven them apart! As we approached the fountain I saw a proud
figure standing near it, which I recognized in an instant.
“’Tis he,” I said, and we hastened forward.
“In faith, I had almost given you up, de Brancas,” cried Richelieu,
gayly, as he wrung my hand and bowed to my companion. “How did you get
out of that devil of a prison?”
“Very easily,” I answered, “since the regent was kind enough to open
the doors for me.”
“That was thoughtful of him, and I envy you the hour you have passed
with this fair lady.”
“Oh, M. le Duc,” cried Mlle. Dacour, “our conversation has been most
sober, and concerned mostly with your affairs.”
“De Brancas,” exclaimed the duke, “your friendship goes too far. Forget
me, I beg of you, when you are with Mlle. Dacour. I should never
forgive myself if I thought that my petty concerns interfered with the
discussion of more appropriate and more interesting things.”
“But how did you escape, monsieur?” I inquired. “The regent sent a
squadron of horse with you, did he not?”
“Oh, yes,” answered Richelieu, airily, “but they do not know how to
ride. Last night we stopped at Chartres. This morning we set off again
at a snail’s pace, and by noon reached Orleans, where we stopped
for dinner. I was ashamed of the company in which I found myself and
determined to leave it. So when the guards were in a half-somnolent
state, digesting their dinner like so many pigs, I knocked a couple
of them out of the way, mounted my horse, and rode leisurely back to
Paris by way of Etampes and Limours. ’Twas too easily done to mention
further.”
“But the guards are doubtless on your track, if they have not already
reached Paris!” I exclaimed.
“I suppose so,” said Richelieu, carelessly; “but how can they suspect
that I am here in the gardens of the Palais Royal talking to Mlle.
Dacour and yourself, and that I am presently to see Mlle. de Valois
again? Is it not so, mademoiselle?” he asked, turning to Louise.
“Oh, yes, M. le Duc,” she answered. “Come. She is awaiting you.”
“While I have been idling here!” cried Richelieu, and sprang forward.
“And I?” I asked.
“Come also, M. de Brancas,” she said, smiling over her shoulder.
“We have seen that you know how to be of service and that you are
discreet.”
I needed no second bidding.
A bank of clouds obscured the moon, but Mlle. Dacour advanced without
hesitation and led the way, as I had expected, towards the right
wing of the palace with the little garden in front. A gate in the
low surrounding wall yielded to her touch, but instead of advancing
straight forward across the garden she kept to the right in the shadow
of the buildings, where suddenly she stopped. I looked about to
discover the reason for this, for there was an apparently solid wall
beside us, when I saw her passing her hand slowly over it, and in a
moment a section of the masonry swung back, operated by a spring which
she had pressed.
“What wonder is this?” asked Richelieu.
“No wonder at all,” replied the girl. “Simply one of the devices
arranged many years ago by Cardinal Mazarin for purposes of his own.
There are many such in the building, if one only knows how to find
them. Enter, messieurs.”
We bowed our heads and entered, Mlle. Dacour following us and closing
the hidden door after her. There was a lighted lantern standing in one
corner of the small room in which we found ourselves, and she picked it
up and motioned us to follow. A long, narrow passage led to the right,
and after traversing this we came to a small spiral staircase. Up
this we mounted, and found that it ended apparently in a blank wooden
wall. Along this Mlle. Dacour felt with one hand, and as I watched her
closely, a section of the wall swung outward. We passed through and it
closed after us. I saw with astonishment that the wall through which
we had come was covered with shelving, filled with jars of various
preserved fruits, glasses of jelly, and boxes of sweetmeats. At that
instant Mlle. Dacour held up a warning finger and blew out the light.
“It is, indeed, an unexpected honor,” I heard a voice say, which I
recognized as that of the princess. “To what happy chance do I owe it,
monsieur?”
“Who can it be?” I heard Louise murmur, for we seemed to have
gravitated together in the dark, and the fact that she did not resent
my encircling arm filled me with unreasonable joy and made me bless the
circumstance which held us prisoner here.
“I come merely to bring you some news which I thought might interest
you,” replied a voice, which made me start and Louise tremble. “May I
not sit down, my dear daughter?”
“Come, let us go,” whispered Louise. “’Tis folly to remain here.”
“Nay, let us stay rather,” replied Richelieu in the same tone. “I am
curious to hear this news which the regent has brought. What say you,
de Brancas?”
“I am quite content to stay,” I answered, and I drew Louise closer to
me.
“As I suppose you know, mademoiselle,” the regent’s voice was saying
when the beating of my heart permitted me to hear, “the King of
Sardinia has withdrawn his proposal for your hand.”
“It has saved him a rebuff,” answered Charlotte.
“I am not so sure of that,” and the regent laughed. “But do you know
why he has done this? I see from your face that you do not. It was
because of a certain rendezvous in the gardens here, news of which had
got abroad and had reached the king’s ears. It seems I was not the only
one who saw you running towards your apartment that night, and the
others were not so discreet as I. Do you understand now, mademoiselle?”
I heard Richelieu utter an oath and fumble for the latch of the door.
“For God’s sake, keep quiet, monsieur!” I whispered. “There may be
other news.”
“True,” murmured Richelieu, and he stood where he was.
There was a moment’s silence in the outer room, and then the regent’s
voice continued,--
“But do not despair, Charlotte. I have found you another husband. Not a
king, perhaps, but of good birth and high rank, who is also complaisant
enough to overlook your little shortcomings.”
“And may I ask who this gentleman is?” inquired Charlotte’s trembling
voice.
“The Duc de Modena,” said the regent. “See, he has sent his portrait in
order that, by gazing at it, you may become acquainted with your future
husband before the wedding-day arrives.”
“The Duc de Modena!” exclaimed the girl. “Impossible! You must
be jesting, monsieur. The Duc de Modena is old enough to be my
grandfather.”
“I assure you that I am far from jesting, Charlotte,” and the regent’s
voice took a sterner tone. “As for his age, he certainly bears it well.
Here is his portrait. You can see for yourself that he is not an
uncomely man.”
“Take it away! I refuse to look at it!” she cried, and we heard a
scuffle and a crash of glass, which betokened the destruction of the
portrait.
Richelieu was again fumbling for the latch of the door, swearing softly
to himself, and again I restrained him.
“That was a foolish act, mademoiselle,” said the regent, “for now you
will not know your husband, even when you see him, for I swear that you
shall marry the Duc de Modena.”
“And I swear that I shall not!” screamed Charlotte. “I will die first!”
“And perhaps you wish some one else to die first also,” continued the
regent in an unchanged voice.
“Some one else? I do not understand, monsieur.”
“Permit me to tell you a little more of my news and you will understand
perfectly. You know, doubtless, that yesterday I released the Duc
de Richelieu from the Bastille and sent him to join his regiment at
Bayonne?”
“Well?”
“Well, to-day at noon, at Orleans, he chose to leave his escort and
return to Paris.”
“Continue, monsieur.”
“He was not closely pursued, for his escort had their orders. I
suspected that he would do something of the kind, and I also suspected
the reason. Do you know what I have sworn, mademoiselle?”
She did not answer, and there was a moment’s pause.
“I have sworn that Richelieu’s head shall fall if he comes in my way
again. I set a very pretty trap for him and he has walked straight into
it. In this trap you were the bait, my dear.”
I felt Louise trembling against me. Richelieu was breathing deeply.
“Yes, a trap,” cried the regent; “and if I mistake not, the mice
are already in it. Are there not mice in your conserve closet,
mademoiselle? I fancied I heard a noise there.”
Richelieu, unable to control himself longer, threw open the door with a
crash and sprang into the room.
“As you see, M. le Regent,” he cried, hoarse with rage, “the mice are
here. But I warn you that they have sharp teeth and know how to use
them.”