Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
https://books.google.com/books?id=CeEOAAAAIAAJ
(Cecil H. Green Library: Stanford University Libraries)
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]
Traitor and True
A Romance
By
John Bloundelle-Burton
London
John Long
13 and 14 Norris Street, Haymarket
[_All rights reserved_]
_First published in 1906_
TRAITOR AND TRUE
CHAPTER I
The doors of the Taverne Gabrielle, in the Rue des Franc Bourgeois in
the Marais, stood open to all passers-by, and also to the cool wind
blowing from the south-east. This evening, perhaps because it was
summer-time, and perhaps, also, because it was supper-time for all in
Paris from his Splendid Majesty down to the lowest who had any supper
to eat, the appropriately named tavern--since directly opposite to it
was the hôtel which Henri IV. had built for the fair Gabrielle
d'Estrées--was not so full as it would be later on.
Indeed, it was by no means full, and the landlord, with his family,
was occupying the time during which he scarcely ever had a demand for
a pint of wine, or even a _pigeolet_, to have his own supper.
There were, however, some customers present--since when was there ever
a time that the doors of a cabaret which is also an eating-house, and
that one of good fame in a populous neighbourhood, did not have some
customers beneath its roof at every hour of the day from the moment
the doors opened until they closed? And the Taverne Gabrielle was no
exception to this almost indisputable fact.
In one corner of the great, square room there sat an ancient bourgeois
with his cronies sipping a flask of Arbois; in another a young man in
the uniform of the Régiment de Perche was discussing a savoury ragout
with a demoiselle who was masked; close by the open door, with the
tables drawn out in front of it, though not too near to it to prevent
free ingress and egress, were two men who, in an earlier period than
that of Le Dieudonné, might have been termed _marauds_, swashbucklers,
_bretteurs_, or heaven knows what. Now--even in the days which seemed
to those who lived in them to be degenerate ones with all the flame
and excitement of life departed, and which seem to those who have
lived after them to have been so full of a strong, masterfully
pulsating, full-blooded existence, perfumed with all that goes to make
life one long romance--these men might have appeared to be anything
except sober citizens or honest bourgeois carrying on steady,
reputable callings. For, on their faces, in their garb, even in their
wicked-looking side-weapons which now hung peacefully on the wall
close by where they sat, there was an indescribable something which
proclaimed that they were not men bringing up families decently and
honestly. Not men content with small gains obtained by honest labour,
by taking down their shutters at dawn and putting them up again long
after nightfall; not men who walked side by side with their wives to
Saint Eustache or Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois on Sabbath mornings while
leading their children by the hand. Men, indeed, to judge by their
appearance, their words and exclamations--which would not have graced
the salons of St. Germain or Versailles!--and also by their looks and
gestures, more fitted, more suitable to, and better acquainted with a
huge fortress-prison close at hand, termed the Bastille, than any
place of worship.
"He should be here by now," the elder of the two said to his
companion, whom he addressed frequently as Fleur de Mai. "The sun has
set and, ere long, every bell in Paris will be proclaiming that it is
nine o'clock. If he comes not soon, there will be little time for us
to go to the Hôtel des Muses and have a cast for a pistole or two. Van
den Enden closes his _tripot_ early."
"He will come, Boisfleury. So will the other. His master and, now,
ours. Yet, remember what I have already told you, treat neither of
them too much _en maître_. Remember also, that we are all officers and
gentlemen--or have been."
"Yet--_malheur à tous!_ we are no longer officers and, well! they
are."
"La Truaumont is not. The other, the Chief, is, seeing that he is
actual first in command of all the guards of the Splendid One."
"If he were not he would not be coming here to-night. That command
gives him the power he desires."
"Yes, combined with the other power, the other assistance, he
expects."
"Will he succeed, Fleur de Mai?"
"Succeed!" the younger man, addressed as Fleur de Mai, exclaimed.
"_Cadédis!_ 'tis to be hoped so. Or else, where are we? We, _mon ami_.
Where are we?"
"There," Boisfleury said, pointing a finger towards the Rue St.
Antoine, at the end of which the Bastille stood; "or there," directing
an eye towards the vicinity of the Louvre, close by which was the
Place du Carrousel where, when the great _place_ in front of the
Bastille was similarly occupied, the Wheel was set up.
"Precisely. Therefore, _mon camarade_, he must not fail. There is too
much at stake; our precious lives principally. Afterwards his. Then,
hers. To say nothing of Van den Enden's life."
"Theirs are of poor account. Yet, _à-propos_ of hers; where is she and
what is she doing now?"
"Plotting, of course. For him whom she loves and for her province
which, though it treated her but scurvily, she still loves. Being a
woman, neglect on one side and ill-treatment on the other has made her
love grow stronger. It does that with some women and most dogs, since
their love is like tropic flowers that often grow best in dry,
uncared-for soil."
"But her other love; for him? Does that not prosper?"
"Again the dog's nature is shown in that. She gets no love, but still
she loves on and on blindly. If that," imitating the other's recently
pointing finger, "or that," imitating his recently directed glance,
"claims him it will claim her too. Should he ever get into the jaws of
Madame la Bastille she will get there also. For, again, dog-like,
where he goes Emérance will follow."
"Such a love is worth having," his comrade said meditatively, as
though, perhaps in better days, he had once possessed, or dreamed of
possessing, a similar one.
"For which very reason the Chief does not value it. If he were forced
to sigh and moan for want of it and still find it refused----"
"He would never do that for any woman!"
"'Tis true. And in this case he is right. So long as he disdains her
so long will she serve him heart and soul. She will intrigue for him,
spy for him, work for him and, in the end, die with him if he dies
'there' or 'there'," again imitating, saturninely, the other; "or, if
may be, die for him. But, if he succeeds, if he arrives at that which
he hopes to reach, then--well!--they will die apart. For, succeeding,
she will not be able to follow where he goes: the spot where she
remains will have been left far behind by him."
"'Tis hard on her," the elder man said, still musing. "A woman's love,
a true woman's love, is worth having; it is too good a thing to be
wasted."
"It is the fate of woman's love where misplaced. Now," he said, "look
behind you down the street. La Truaumont is coming. We shall hear of
our first employment. It will not be a pleasant journey, but we shall
be away from all plotting and we shall be well paid. That is better
than 'there,'" and again Fleur de Mai mockingly imitated his
companion.
Turning round on his chair and glancing down the street, Boisfleury
saw that a burly, bull-necked man was coming along it with his light
cloak thrown over one arm, since the evening had not yet become cool
enough for it to be worn, and heard the end of the scabbard of his
rapier scraping the cobble stones of the road as he walked, since
there were no footpaths in the Rue des Franc Bourgeois.
Yet, bull-necked and burly though this man might be, there was about
him something that proclaimed him of better metal than those whom he
was undoubtedly coming to meet, and also that, even as they were men
accustomed to obey, so he was one well used to command. For there was
in him an indescribable yet easily recognised air of command, a look,
an air, that told plainly enough that this man had in his life given
more orders, with the certainty of those orders being obeyed, than he
had ever taken. In age he was perhaps fifty, or a year or two less, he
was plainly but well dressed, and, in spite of the ruggedness of his
appearance, he was a well-favoured, good-looking man.
He drew near to the Taverne Gabrielle now and entered it as Fleur de
Mai and Boisfleury each rose to their feet and saluted him in a manner
different from that of the other, yet typical of each. The former,
who, though a younger man than his companion, was evidently the
principal of the two, welcomed the Captain La Truaumont more _en
camarade_ than the other; more familiarly indeed, as though feeling
that, in absolute truth, he was his equal. The latter rose with some
sort of quiet dignity which, while expressing the fact that he
considered himself as quite a humble instrument to be bought by money,
was not without a certain self-respect. Also, that dignity seemed to
suggest that, once, the man's position had been different from, and
better than, it was now or would ever be again.
"So," La Truaumont said, "you keep the rendezvous. It is very well.
Unhappily, I have made it too late. The citizens have supped, their
wives will be putting the children to bed, they will be coming forth
to drink their flask and discuss their neighbours', and their own,
doings. This tavern will be full ere long; we had best go elsewhere
since there is much to talk over."
"There is Van den Enden's," Fleur de Mai said. "Plenty of rooms there
where none can overhear or intrude! What say you, noble captain? You
know the place and the man. Likewise, _she_ is there and--well! she is
in the affair and deeply too."
"'Twill do. It is there I have told the Chief I will be between ten
and eleven. He will be back by then from making his last arrangements
for the departure of that other." After which he said, while
addressing both men, "You set out to-morrow night."
"All nights are the same to us--is it not so, Boisfleury?" Fleur de
Mai exclaimed, slapping his somewhat melancholy comrade on the back as
though to hearten him up.
"It is," the other said. "All nights and all roads, and all days as
well. Fleur de Mai and I require little preparation. Our horses are in
their stables, our clothes on our backs; our best friends," with a
glance of his eye--that glance with which a Frenchman can infer a
whole sentence!--towards the weapons hanging in their sashes on the
wall, "are there."
"Good. You will have a light, easy task of it, a pleasant ride through
the sunniest provinces of France; the best of inns to sleep in, eat
in, drink in----"
"So. So. 'Tis very well," grunted Fleur de Mai approvingly.
"--and," continued La Truaumont, "your pockets filled with pistoles
ere you set out, replenished with them when you arrive at your
destination, and refilled again when you return to Paris. Can heart of
man desire more?"
"Whatever the hearts of Fleur de Mai and Boisfleury may desire more,"
the former of those two worthies said, "they are not likely to get.
Therefore we are content. We will guard the noble lady valiantly. If
our two swords are not enough to shield her and her companion, 'tis
not very like a dozen others could."
"There will be one other," La Truaumont said quietly, as now Fleur de
Mai made a sign to the drawer to bring the reckoning.
"One other!" the latter exclaimed, turning round to look at La
Truaumont. "What other? Any of our 'friends' by chance? Of our noble
and distinguished confraternity?"
"By no means. The other blade--he is a good one--is a young man who
loves the _demoiselle de compagnie_ of the illustrious traveller; one
who rides half-way upon the long journey to thereby keep his _fiancée_
company and to act as protector, escort, squire of dames."
"Who is he? Do we know him?" While, dropping his voice, Fleur de Mai
added, "Is he in the Great Venture?"
"No, to each and every question. You have never heard of him or seen
him, and he knows no more of the 'Great Venture' than he who is the
object of that great venture's existence knows. The man in question is
an Englishman."
"An Englishman!" the two companions exclaimed together, while Fleur de
Mai added, "What do we want with him?"
"Nothing--no more than he wants with you, he going only, as I have
said, to be by the side of his beloved. He goes," La Truaumont
continued with some little emphasis, "unpaid, unhired and
untrammelled. He can turn back when half of the first portion of the
journey is completed, or, arrived at the end of the first portion, he
can, if it so pleases him, encompass the second with the ladies. He is
well-to-do and his pockets are well lined."
"He is an Englishman all the same," Fleur de Mai grumbled.
"On one side only. His mother is a Frenchwoman."
"That's better," both the men said together. After which Fleur de Mai
asked:--
"But the Venture? The Great Attempt? You say he knows nought of that.
Yet he will be _there_ as well as we when the illustrious lady has
gone on her way; when Van den Enden----"
"Hush, idiot. No names."
"When the emissary, then, comes to meet her. That other whom we shall
see to-night."
"Again I say he is harmless, since he knows nothing. Now, come. Let us
to the 'emissary's'. The Chief will be there as soon as may be. We
must not be later than he."
Whereon Fleur de Mai once more crooked a ringer at the drawer lurking
by the window and keeping an eye on those who had been consuming his
master's wine--he being accustomed to trust no one whom he did not
know to be an honest bourgeois of the vicinity; and, at the same time,
each man reached down his hat and sword and buckled the latter around
his waist.
Then, the reckoning paid, the three went forth into the narrow street
and directed their steps towards the Rue Picpus which was not so very
far off. For it was in that street that there dwelt the man who had,
but a few moments before, been spoken of as Van den Enden and the
"emissary." A man who was as much concerned in that Great Venture,
that Great Attempt referred to, as was either Le Capitaine La
Truaumont or the other man termed the Chief.