RICHELIEU STANDS HIS GROUND
I knew that I had no time to lose, and I hurried along the quay as
rapidly as the crowd would permit, hoping to arrive at the Hotel de
Richelieu before the duke left the house. The half-hour was striking as
I reached my destination, entered the court, and knocked at the door.
It was Jacques who opened.
“Is Richelieu here?” I asked, springing across the threshold and
motioning him to bar the door after me, for at every moment I was
expecting to feel upon my shoulder the hand of one of Hérault’s agents.
“M. le Duc left the house not ten minutes since,” answered Jacques.
“And where did he go?”
“I do not know, monsieur.”
“Was there a note left here for him to-day?”
“Yes, monsieur. A small perfumed note.”
“And you gave it to Richelieu?”
“Not half an hour ago.”
“Who delivered the note?”
“A man in the livery of the regent’s household, monsieur.”
I groaned aloud. It was then as I had expected. The livery of the
regent’s household was of course at the service of Hérault. I was for a
moment stunned.
“M. le Duc was greatly chagrined at not finding you here, monsieur,”
continued Jacques. “I told him that you had attended the theatre last
night and had not returned. But monsieur is dripping wet,” he cried in
astonishment, as I advanced into the circle of light cast by the hall
lamp.
“Yes,” I said, looking somewhat ruefully at the ruin of my best suit,
“I have just come out of the Seine, and it is not pleasant running
through the streets in wet garments on a December night. I must have a
change of clothes at once. If we are prompt I may yet save Richelieu.”
“He is in danger, then, monsieur?”
“In the greatest danger,” I answered. “Come.”
We ran up the stairs, and with that promptness which I had already so
greatly admired, Jacques produced a suit of clothing. In five minutes
I was ready for the street, and snatching up a sword, descended the
staircase three steps at a time. As I passed through the hall I glanced
at the clock and saw that I had yet twenty minutes in which to reach
the Rue Jean Tison. The rendezvous was for ten o’clock.
I crossed the Pont Royal, and turning down the Quai des Galleries du
Louvre, as likely to be least crowded, passed the Port St. Nicholas
at a run, and came to the Rue des Poulies. This led me to the Rue
Bailleul, which I remembered only too well, and in a moment I was at
the Rue Jean Tison. The end of the street was blocked by a house,
through which a large gate-way was pierced, and I passed through this
and rapped at the door of the third house on the right. As I did so I
heard ten o’clock striking from St. Honoré. Some one fumbled at the
bolts within, and the door opened. A noise at the end of the street
caught my ear and I paused an instant on the threshold. As I looked
back, I saw approaching from either direction a company of mounted
guards, their arms clanking and the hoofs of their horses awakening a
thousand echoes.
“Bar the door quickly!” I said to the old woman who stood within
holding a candle. “Where are Richelieu and the ladies?”
“On the floor above, monsieur.”
Without waiting for another word, I sprang up the stairs and flung open
the first door I came to. By the dim light I saw Richelieu holding
Mlle. de Valois in his arms. She uttered a startled exclamation as I
entered, and drew away from him.
“M. le Duc,” I cried, “we have not a moment to lose! There are forty
guards at the door. We must go, and quickly.”
“Upon my soul it is de Brancas!” exclaimed Richelieu. “And where have
you been all day, my friend?”
“Do not stop for questioning, I beg of you,” I panted. “Is there any
other way out of this house?”
“I do not know. I will see,” and the princess ran to the door, where
we heard her rapidly interrogating the old woman. At that moment a
thunderous knock sounded on the door below and echoed through the house.
“Oh, monsieur, what is happening?” cried a voice which made me start.
“Is this another trap?”
“It looks very much like it, Mlle. Dacour,” replied Richelieu,
gloomily, and turned towards the door with frowning face.
There was a second knock louder than the first, which shook the house
and made the windows rattle.
“Open or we will force an entrance!” cried a voice outside.
There was an instant’s silence, and the princess came back to us, her
face white with fear.
“There is no way of getting out except by the door below,” she faltered.
“But there must be!” I cried. “The roof,--can we not escape by the
roof? Come, M. le Duc, I implore you,” for, seemingly oblivious to the
sounds below, he had gone to his mistress and was whispering in her ear.
In a moment he turned to me.
“De Brancas,” he said, “I am weary of this perpetual game of
hide-and-seek. I am tired of forever running away. I swore last time
that I should never do it again. Go, my friend. As for me, I intend to
stay.”
I looked at him aghast. He was smiling calmly and was holding out his
hand to me.
“But to stay means to be captured,” I stammered, not yet understanding
him. “We cannot defeat a regiment, monsieur.”
“That may be,” and the duke still smiled.
“And the Bastille.”
“Very likely.”
“And----” but here I paused.
“Go on, my friend,” said Richelieu, calmly, “I read your thought. You
would say that after the Bastille the Place de Greve and the block.
Is it not so? But heads do not fall so easily, de Brancas. The regent
would think twice before sending me to the axe.”
Blows were raining upon the door, and I knew that it must soon give
way. I looked at Richelieu again, but he had returned to the princess.
“Very well,” I muttered, “we must stay in this devil of a hole, then,
it seems,” and I folded my arms and walked moodily towards the door.
But I paused as I felt a light touch upon my elbow.
“Oh, M. de Brancas,” murmured Louise, “when M. le Duc told us that he
had not seen you, that you had not returned to his hotel after the
theatre last night, but that the note had been delivered, I suspected
a trap. I implored him to go, but he would not listen.”
“I can well believe it,” I groaned. “He is capable of any madness.”
I heard the door below splitting. In another moment the soldiers would
be upon us.
“And conceive our anxiety for you, monsieur,” continued Louise, in a
lower tone.
“For me?” I cried. “And you have then forgiven me, Louise?”
“Oh, Jean!” and my arms were around her, “did you think these tears
were for Richelieu?”
With a crash the door gave way, and I heard the tramp of heavy feet
upon the stairs.
“Come, my friend,” said Richelieu, and together we left the room, the
door of which he closed after us.
The guards were already half-way up the stairs, but paused at the sight
of us standing there in the shadow above them.
“Good-evening, gentlemen,” said Richelieu. “May I ask your errand in
this house?”
“’Tis Richelieu!” cried a voice, which I recognized as that of Hérault.
“Wait a moment, men.”
He pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
“Our errand here concerns only yourself, M. le Duc,” he said. “We are
charged to arrest you.”
“And of what am I accused?” asked Richelieu.
“You were ordered to join your regiment at Bayonne, monsieur,” answered
Hérault, “and you are now in Paris. That is your offence.”
“’Tis not a great one.”
“But we must arrest you nevertheless, monsieur. Do you surrender, or
shall we be compelled to take you by force?”
“Monsieur,” cried Richelieu, “you have just said that your mission here
concerns only myself. If I accompany you without resistance have I your
word that no one else in this house will be molested?”
“You have my word, monsieur,” answered Hérault, who had not perceived
me in the dim light of the hall and thought only that Richelieu was
trying to protect the princess.
“Oh, do not do this; we may yet escape!” I implored, but the duke
silenced me with a smile.
“On those conditions I surrender,” he said. “I will come down to you,
M. Hérault,” and he started to descend, but paused as he perceived a
sudden commotion at the door.
“A messenger for M. Hérault!” cried some one.
“What is it?” asked Hérault.
A man forced his way up the staircase and to Hérault’s side.
“Bernin,” cried the latter, “what are you doing here?”
“I have to report, monsieur,” he said, humbly, “that my prisoner has
escaped.”
“Escaped!” exclaimed Hérault. “Impossible! How could one unarmed man
defeat six guards and wade through twenty more?”
“This was not a man, it was a devil,” declared Bernin. “He locked us in
his bedroom like so many pigs, having first decoyed us there to show
us how to play a wonderful game. He broke open the window and dropped
forty feet into the Seine. We had the door down in a moment, but he was
gone.”
“And where did he go?” cried Hérault. “Tell me that, Bernin?”
“Alas, I do not know, monsieur.”
“I think I can relieve your anxiety on that score, M. Hérault,” I said,
descending to a lower step. “I wish you a very good-evening, monsieur,”
and I bowed politely.
He stared at me with open mouth, as though unable to believe his eyes.
Some one brought a torch, which cast a red glow over the hallway and
threw into relief the faces of the soldiers looking up at us. But he
was a man accustomed to astonishments, and he soon pulled himself
together.
“You will pardon my surprise, M. de Brancas,” he said, at last. “You
seem to be possessed of an amazing agility. May I ask how you entered
here?”
“By the door,” I answered, still smiling, and rejoicing that it was my
turn, “an instant before your men appeared at the end of the street,
monsieur.”
He gazed at me for a moment longer as I smiled down into his eyes.
“Come, M. de Brancas,” he said, at last, mounting to the step where I
stood, “give me your hand. By my soul, you are a brave man and I admire
you. You must some day show me this game with which you beguiled my
soldiers.”
“With pleasure,” I laughed. “It is an excellent game.”
“And what is it called?” he asked. “Perhaps I already know it.”
“I do not think so, monsieur. It is called ‘Prisoner’s Chase’. If
properly played, in the end the prisoner escapes.”
“Well, you are free, M. de Brancas,” said Hérault, still looking at me.
“My orders were to detain you only until Richelieu was safely arrested.
As he has agreed to accompany us, we need not trouble you further. I
see now,” he added, “why he was so anxious to have no one else here
molested.”
“Must it be, monsieur?” I cried, turning to Richelieu. “Is this the
only way?”
“This is the only way,” he answered; and then, turning to Hérault,
“Monsieur, will you permit me to say a word in private to my friend?”
“There will be no attempt to escape?” asked Hérault, hesitating.
“You have my word, monsieur,” said Richelieu, proudly.
“True,” and Hérault thought for a moment. “M. le Duc, I will withdraw
with my men to the stairfoot. In three minutes you will descend alone
and without your sword. Is it agreed?”
“It is agreed,” said Richelieu, and Hérault and his men went down the
stairs.
“All this amounts to nothing, de Brancas,” said Richelieu, in a low
tone. “This regency will not last a week, and so the worst that can
happen to me will be a week in prison. What I fear is that Charlotte,
over-estimating my danger, will be moved to make some ridiculous
sacrifice for me. Of course, you cannot tell her of the conspiracy, but
make her believe, if possible, that I am in no danger.”
“I shall try, monsieur,” I faltered.
“And tell Madame du Maine,” he continued, rapidly, “that everything is
prepared at Bayonne and that my absence will make no difference. My men
know my wishes, the town council is ready, and the city will declare
against Orleans.”
“Yes, yes, I will tell her.”
“And now, good-by, my friend,” and Richelieu took my hand. “You have
already performed miracles of valor in my behalf, and that I am a
prisoner now is my own fault and not yours. I shall never forget it.”
He drew his sword, threw it far from him, and passed down the stairs
under the red glow of the torches to the captors who awaited him, his
head proudly erect, his lips smiling. The lights threw flaring shadows
in every corner, but their bearers stood in perfect silence, with
upturned faces, admiring, breathless. Could I have known what was to
follow ere I should see that courtly form again, even then, I swear it,
I would have rushed down sword in hand and cut our way to freedom. But
it was not to be.
I stood there motionless till the tramp of horses died away in the
distance. Then I opened the door and entered.
“We have heard all,” said Louise. “Richelieu is arrested.”
“And I am here,” I added, gloomily.
“Believe me, we do not blame you in the least, M. de Brancas,” and
Mlle. de Valois smiled through her tears. “You did more than any other
man could have done, monsieur.”
“In any event, there is nothing more for us to do here,” I said.
“Let us go. But first, let me tell you, mademoiselle, that Richelieu
entreats you not to over-estimate his danger, and not to worry on his
account, since he believes he will be free in a week’s time.”
“He is trying to deceive me, monsieur,” and she looked at me
questioningly. “You yourself know how little ground there is for such
a hope.”
“There is something which I cannot tell you, mademoiselle,” I
answered, “but which will undoubtedly secure his release if it results
fortunately. That is true, believe me,” and without daring to say more,
I opened the door and led the way down the staircase.
We were soon in the street, and I accompanied them to the little door
opening on the Rue de Richelieu through which the duke had evaded the
regent’s first trap. They bade me adieu, and Louise gave my hand a
little pressure as she left me, but not even that could lift me from
the gloom into which I had fallen. I returned slowly to the Rue des
Saints Pères. Jacques was awaiting me, and paled visibly at sight of my
downcast face.
“What has happened, monsieur?” he asked in a frightened whisper.
“Richelieu has been arrested. He is again in the Bastille,” I answered.
“But you will get him out, will you not, monsieur?” and the anxious
fellow looked at me piteously.
“I will try, rest assured of that,” I said, and I smiled, with tears
in my eyes, at his faith in me.
Sleep was long in coming to my eyes that night. If the conspiracy
succeeded, Richelieu was saved. But if it failed, what then? I
shuddered at the thought, for I remembered the regent’s last words
to me and the look which had accompanied them. At last I fell into a
troubled sleep, in which I saw again that graceful figure descending
the staircase under the red glare of the torches. And then the scene
changed. There was the same sea of eager, admiring faces watching in
breathless silence, but the figure they watched was going up instead of
down, and on the platform to which it was mounting there stood a block
and a masked man with an axe. And the red glow over it all was blood.