THE REGENT SCORES A POINT
Philip of Orleans was leaning back in a large chair facing the closet
in which we had been concealed, and he did not alter his position a
hair’s-breadth as Richelieu sprang into the room with drawn sword, I
but a pace behind him. Indeed, his face did not change a muscle, and he
turned towards us the smile he had employed with his daughter. But the
latter, recognizing her lover, sank into a chair, her face drawn and
gray with fear.
“Ah, M. le Duc,” said the regent, still smiling, “you remained among
the preserves longer than I believed you would. You have great
patience.”
“You shall never again have cause to say so, monsieur!” cried
Richelieu, white with anger, “for I swear to you my patience is
exhausted. Draw your sword and defend yourself.”
“Have patience a moment longer, monsieur,” said the regent, raising
his hand. “You do not seem to fully understand the situation. Outside
the secret door by which you entered a dozen of my guards are waiting,
with orders to arrest you or to kill you should you resist them. In the
antechamber there another dozen are stationed, whom a single cry would
bring to my assistance.”
“But I should still have time to kill you, monsieur,” cried Richelieu.
“Perhaps,” said the regent, calmly; “but I believe, nevertheless, that
I could hold you off for the few seconds it would require them to burst
open the door. Ah,” he continued, as though seeing me for the first
time, “here is M. de Brancas. Good-evening, monsieur. I did not think
that I should see you again so soon. Did you give M. le Duc the message
I intrusted to you?”
“No, monsieur,” I answered, and it seemed to me that we were cutting a
very poor figure in face of the regent’s easy nonchalance.
“You did wrong,” he said. “It would, perhaps, have saved him from this
trap, into which he came without knowing the danger.”
“What was this message?” asked Richelieu, disdainfully.
“Simply, monsieur,” answered the regent, coolly, “that the next time
I held you in my hands I should not let you go until your head and
shoulders had parted company.”
A low groan from the princess made Richelieu start.
“Do not concern yourself, I beg of you, Charlotte,” he cried. “These
are but empty vaporings, believe me. It seems to me that at present I
am not in this man’s power, but he in mine,” and with a movement swift
as lightning his sword was at the regent’s breast. “If you so much as
move a muscle, monsieur,” he said, “I swear to you upon my honor that I
will drive this sword through your heart.”
The regent did not move, only his smile grew broader. I could not but
admire the man.
“De Brancas,” cried Richelieu, “bind your scarf tightly over his mouth.
Do not lift your hand, monsieur,” he continued warningly to the regent.
I did as he bade me, marvelling that Orleans did not show more spirit.
“Now off with his hat and cloak,” continued Richelieu.
I obeyed, and still the regent made no sign. I began to fear some
further trap.
“What now, monsieur?” I asked.
“In faith, I do not know,” said Richelieu. “I might, indeed, don the
cloak and hat, go out and order the guard away so that we could escape,
but if we both leave, who will guard the regent? We might tie him, but
it must needs be most securely.”
“Go, go, monsieur!” I cried, seizing his sword, but still keeping the
point at the regent’s breast. “Put on the cloak and hat and go. I will
stay, and I answer for it he will make no outcry.”
“Impossible,” said Richelieu. “I go and leave you, my friend?”
“Yes, yes,” I answered. “It is not with me a matter of life and death.
Besides, with my sword at his heart I shall be able to make my own
terms.”
“True,” said Richelieu, but he still hesitated and turned towards Mlle.
de Valois.
“Ah, Charlotte,” he said, dropping on one knee before her and lifting
her hand to his lips, “it seems that I am never to be permitted to tell
you how I love you. But what is this?” he cried, looking up into her
eyes to find them closed. “Oh, what has happened?”
Mlle. Dacour hastened to her.
“She has merely fainted, M. le Duc,” she said after a moment. “It is
nothing. She will soon be herself again, I answer for it.”
“Thank God!” exclaimed the duke, and he covered with kisses the hand he
held in his own. “I cannot go leaving her so.”
“I implore you to go, monsieur!” I entreated. “We do not know what
instructions have been given the guards at the door. They may break in
at any moment.”
“I yield,” murmured Richelieu, and he picked up the regent’s cloak and
wrapped it about him; “but this is the last time that I will run away.
I shall take horse for Bayonne,” he continued. “With my regiment I
shall be safe. They would go to hell for me.”
But I looked at him gloomily, for I saw that even in that disguise
his lithe, upright figure bore little resemblance to the shorter and
stouter form of the regent.
“I fear the guards will suspect you, monsieur,” I said. “The disguise
is a poor one.”
“So be it!” cried the duke, flinging the cloak and hat from him and
picking up his own. “I will go without disguise, and trust to my sword
to win me passage.” He placed his hand at his side, and remembered
that I had his sword pressed against the regent’s heart. I drew my own
with my other hand, and presenting it to the prisoner’s throat, handed
Richelieu his own.
“Nay, wait a moment, M. le Duc,” cried Mlle. Dacour, as he started
towards the door; “there is another way.”
“And unguarded?” he asked, pausing.
“I believe so. Come,” and she led the way towards the apartment in the
rear of that in which we were.
“Adieu, de Brancas,” said Richelieu, pausing on the threshold. “If you
suffer for this I will bring all Brittany to your rescue,” and he was
gone.
I glanced at Orleans, but he made no sign. What new trap was he
preparing that he should sit here so contentedly? I strained my ears
for the clash of arms or for any outcry which would tell of the
discovery of the fugitive, but none came. The moments passed.
“He must be safe by this time,” I murmured.
“That being the case, let us put an end to this farce,” said the
regent, speaking quite distinctly through the scarf which encircled
his head, and putting up his hand, he tore the scarf away. My sword
quivered in my hand, yet I had never killed a man but in fair fight and
my heart failed me now. “Come, M. de Brancas,” he continued, calmly,
reading my thought in my face, “put down your sword. Did you think that
I should have sat quiet here so obligingly had I desired to detain the
duke? Surely, you gave me credit for more spirit, monsieur?”
“Then there was a trap?” I stammered, though not surprised at this
confirmation of my suspicions.
“Well, not precisely,” and the regent smiled. “But here is Mlle.
Dacour, who may have some news for you.”
She entered as he spoke and cast an alarmed and astonished glance at my
lowered sword and the regent’s smiling face.
“The duke is safe, is he not?” I cried, alarmed in my turn.
“I believe so,” she answered. “I let him out by the little door into
the Rue de Richelieu. There was no guard at the door and apparently we
were unobserved. I watched him until he turned into the Rue St. Honoré
and mingled with the crowd. Then I closed the door and returned.”
“Come,” said Orleans, rising, “you see that your friend is safe, de
Brancas, and that you have again outwitted me. Make your adieux to
Mlle. Dacour and leave her to attend to my daughter. Come with me. I
have two words to say to you,” and he picked up his hat and cloak and
walked towards the door.
“Oh, what does he mean?” whispered Louise, clutching at my sleeve, her
eyes dark with terror. “Does he mean to do you harm, Jean?”
“That one word would repay me for it all,” I said, looking down with
infinite love into that sweet, upturned face. “But I do not think so,
Louise. In faith, I believe it is he who has outwitted us this evening,
and not we who have outwitted him. But, oh, my life,” I whispered,
pressing her to me, “you care a little, then?”
“Go, go!” she said, pushing me towards the door. “Do not keep him
waiting. Do not make him angry, if he be not already so,” and she gave
me one glance that made my heart leap and closed the door upon me.
Something of my joy must have appeared in my face, for the regent, who
was standing just outside, looked at me and smiled quizzically, but
said nothing. I glanced about with astonishment, for there was not a
single guard in sight.
He noticed my glance and smiled yet more broadly, but still kept
silence. Motioning me to follow him, he led the way to the same room
where he had given me audience but a few hours before.
“Sit down, M. de Brancas,” he said, throwing himself into the large
chair which he had occupied in the afternoon. “Do you know,” he
continued, looking at me with a smile, “I greatly enjoy adventures
such as that of this evening. They give tone to the nerves and prove
that not all men are cowards. In times of peace, such as these, it
is often difficult to decide who is brave and who is not. In faith,
if our treasury were not so depleted I believe I would risk a little
war just for the pleasure of settling the question in regard to a few
people about whom I am undecided. I already know where to place you,
monsieur,” and I reddened at the compliment. “But,” he continued, and
he changed his tone suddenly, “I dare say you and Richelieu believed
you were executing a very clever little coup this evening. You
reminded me of nothing so much as of that ridiculous Sganerelle in M.
Molière’s ‘L’École des Maris,’ who while opposing his adversary with
all his might in reality plays into his hand.”
“I confess, M. le Duc,” I said, “that I am still somewhat in the dark.”
“No doubt,” he laughed. “Come, I will lay the cards on the table for
the sheer pleasure of looking at them myself. Did you really believe me
so anxious to deprive Richelieu of his head?”
“You certainly seemed violent enough, monsieur,” I said.
“Ah, well, and I should have kept my word under certain conditions.
But I am not of a blood-thirsty humor, and all I desired was to get
Richelieu out of the way because he interferes with certain of my
plans, as you know. Now, at Bayonne he will be quite as powerless to
interfere with me as in the grave. Three hundred leagues is a long
distance, monsieur.”
“Ah, ah!” I cried, a light beginning to break in upon me.
“Well,” continued the regent, “I knew very well that he would attempt
to regain Paris, for I suspected to-night’s rendezvous, monsieur, as I
suspect a great many other things,” and he glanced at me in a way which
made me wonder if the Cellamare conspiracy was really such a profound
secret as the conspirators believed. “Consequently I gave orders to
his guards not to press him too closely should he attempt to escape,
and I prepared a trap for him here. He was followed from the moment
he entered Paris until he disappeared through M. de Mazarin’s private
entrance below there. You do not seem to recognize the fact that I have
a well-organized police department, monsieur, the best that the world
has ever seen. I had resolved this: If Richelieu could escape from this
trap and set out for Bayonne as I expected, I should make no great
resistance. If he could not escape, he should die.”
The last words were uttered in a voice that chilled me.
“As you may guess,” continued the regent, “I was not sorry when he
carried out his plan of escape, for I believe that now he will really
go to Bayonne, and he cannot return from there in time to interfere
with me. He is a popular and powerful man, and while I should not
have hesitated in sending him to the block, it would have made me
new enemies, whom I could ill afford just at this time. Have you ever
known what it is, M. de Brancas,” he asked, suddenly, “to be hooted and
stoned through the streets?”
“No, monsieur,” I answered, surprised at the turn the conversation had
taken and at the gloomy cloud which had descended upon the regent’s
face.
“I have known what it is!” he exclaimed. “I, regent of France,--king in
everything but name. I have been abominated, hissed, spat upon. Even
now I am suspected, and Villeroi, the king’s governor, surrounds him
with ridiculous precautions to keep me away from him. I am trying to
turn the tide the other way; I am trying to make friends, hence I am
lenient with you and with Richelieu. I do not know why I am telling you
this,” he added in another tone, “only I admire brave men, whether they
are with me or against me. That is all; forget this conversation and
keep Richelieu from vexing me too far. You may go.”
I bowed and left the room with a dazed consciousness that I had seen a
side of the man which the world knew little of, and as I threaded my
way through the corridors and down the great staircase to the street I
pondered upon it wonderingly. When I heard, afterwards, as I often did,
of the excesses of the little suppers which he gave nearly every night
in his apartment, I did not find it in my heart to blame him.
The increasing cold and the lateness of the hour had driven the people
from the streets, and even the Rue St. Honoré was almost deserted as
I emerged from the Palais Royal. I returned as I had come, casting a
glance at the gloomy river as I crossed it, and was soon at the Hotel
de Richelieu. Jacques admitted me, and told me that his master had
secured a horse from the stables more than an hour before and was now
well on the road to Bayonne.
I was glad to learn that Richelieu had indeed left Paris, for I had
little hope that the regent would permit reasons of state to interfere
with his personal inclinations should the duke provoke him further.
Nor, indeed, had I much hope that Richelieu would remain at Bayonne,
despite his knowledge of the regent’s purpose. Philip of Orleans was
still in my mind as I went to bed, and as I dropped asleep I was
compelled to admit that he was a greater man than I had thought.