MAITRE PANTIN SELLS CABBAGES
At last, just as my patience was worn to its last shred, I saw the
glaze in the window begin to whiten, and almost immediately after
heard footsteps on the landing. This was enough for me, and, unable to
be still longer, I sprang out of bed and hastened to open the door
myself. It admitted Jacques, and a figure in whom I should never have
recognised the notary had I not known that it could be no other than
Pantin. Jacques bore a tray loaded with refreshments, and Pantin held
a lantern, for it was still dark, in one hand, and something that
looked like the folds of a long cloak hung in the loop of his arm. The
noise of their entrance awoke de Belin. With a muttered exclamation I
did not catch, he roused himself, and, the candles being lit, we
proceeded to make a hasty toilet. As I drew on my boots I saw they
were yet wet and muddy, and was about to rate Jacques when Pantin
anticipated, 'I told him to let them be so, monsieur,--you have a part
to play; put this over your left eye.' And with these words he handed
me a huge patch. Then, in place of my own hat, I found I had to wear a
frayed cap of a dark sage-green velvet, with a scarecrow-looking white
feather sticking from it. Lastly, Pantin flung over my shoulders a
long cloak of the same colour as the cap, and seemingly as old. It
fell almost down to my heels, and was fastened at the throat by a pair
of leather straps in lieu of a clasp.
'Faith!' exclaimed the Vicompte, as he stood a little to one side and
surveyed me, 'if you play up to your dress you are more likely to
adorn, than raise the gallows Jacques spoke of.'
But I cut short his gibing with an impatient command to Pantin to
start. The little man, however, demurred--
'You must eat something first, monsieur--not a step will I budge till
you have done that.'
I forced myself to swallow a little, during which time our plans of
overnight were hastily run over; Palin, who had joined us, declared he
would go to the Princess Catherine, and seek her aid. We knew that was
useless, but not desiring to thwart the old man let him have his will.
It was decided, however, in case I had anything to communicate, that I
should hasten to the Rue de Bourdonnais, and that in the meantime the
Vicompte would see the Master-General at once and try what could be
done. This being settled, and having ordered Jacques, who protested
loudly, to stay behind, Pantin and I started off on our search for the
Toison d'Or.
As he closed the entrance door behind him carefully, and Jacques
turned the key, I looked up and down the Rue des Deux Mondes, but
there was not a soul stirring.
''Tis the cold hour, monsieur,' said Pantin, shivering as he drew the
remnant of a cloak he wore closer over his shoulders, 'and we are safe
from all eyes,' and then I noticed for the first time that his feet
were bare, and that he carried a pair of old shoes in one hand and an
empty basket in the other.
'But you are not going like that, man!' I said; 'you will catch a
fever.'
'We are going to the Faubourg St. Martin, monsieur, and there is no
danger of the plague now.'
Though I could not but feel more than grateful for the way in which
the good fellow was labouring for me, I said nothing, but followed him
as he entered the mist that rose from the river and clung heavily to
its banks.
It was, as Pantin had said, the cold hour, and all Paris was asleep.
Above us the sky still swarmed with stars, though a pale band of light
was girdling the horizon. Here and there in the heaving mist on the
river we saw the feeble glimmer of a lanthorn that had survived
through the night and still served to mark the spot where a boat was
moored. All around us the outlines of the city rose in a brown
silhouette; but the golden cross on the spire of Notre Dame had
already caught the dawn and blazed like a beacon against the grey of
the sky overhead.
As the Pont au Change was the latest of the bridges to close, it was
the earliest to open; but when we came there we had to cool our heels
for half an hour or so before we could pass through; and by that time
the city was already beginning to awake. I could not repress a slight
shudder as we passed the dreary walls of the Chatelet, just as the
guard was being changed at the gate, and thought by how lucky a chance
I had escaped being a guest of M. de Breze.
Once past the Chatelet we pushed on briskly, and by the time we had
reached St. Jacques we were warm enough, despite the chillness of the
morning. At a stall near the church, and hard by the Pont Notre Dame,
Pantin purchased a quantity of vegetables, bidding me to keep a little
ahead of him in future and guide him in this manner as far as I knew.
Whilst he was filling his basket I turned up the Rue St. Martin,
wondering what the notary's object could be in transforming himself
into a street hawker. I went slowly, stopping every now and again to
see if Pantin was following, and observed that he kept on the side of
the road opposite to me, and ever and again kept calling out his wares
in a monotonous sing-song tone. Thus far and for a space further I
knew the road, and, observing that Pantin was able to keep me well in
view, increased my pace until at last we came to the cross street near
which I had met the jealous Mangel and his wife. Up the cross street I
turned without hesitation, now almost facing the tall spire that had
been my landmark, and I began to think I would be able to trace my way
to the Toison d'Or without difficulty when I suddenly came to a
standstill and faltered. For here there were half a dozen lanes that
ran this way and that, and for the life of me I could not tell which
was the one I had taken but a few hours before, so different did they
look now to what they had appeared by moonlight. As I halted in a
doubting manner Pantin hurried up, and, there being one or two near
me, began to urge me to buy his cabbages. I made a pretence of putting
him off, and then, the strangers having passed, I explained I had lost
my bearings. 'I see a wine shop open across the road, chevalier--go in
and call for a flask and await me,' he answered rapidly.
I nodded, and bidding him begone in a loud tone, swaggered across
the street, and entering the den--it could be called by no other
name--shouted for a litre of Beaugency, and flung myself down on a
rough stool with a clatter of my sword and a great showing of the
pistol butts that stuck out from my belt.
The cabaret had just opened, but early as I was I was not the first
customer, for a man was sitting half-asleep and half-drunk on one of
the foul-looking benches, and as I called for my wine, he rose up,
muttering, 'Beaugency! He wants Beaugency--there is none here,' he
went on in a maudlin manner, turning to me. 'At the Toison d'Or----'
I almost started at the words; but the landlord, whose face appeared
from behind a cask at my shout, and whose countenance now showed the
utmost anger at his old client's speech, suddenly seized him by the
neck and hustled him from the room--'The drunken knave!' he said with
a great oath, 'to say that I kept no Beaugency--here, captain,' and he
handed me a litre, with a much-stained glass, 'here is Beaugency that
comes from More's own cellars,' and he looked knowingly at me.
Not wishing to hold converse with the fellow, I filled the glass, and
then, flinging him a crown, bade him drink the rest of the bottle for
good luck. The scoundrel drank it there and then, and as soon as he
had done so returned to the charge.
'It is good wine--eh, captain?'
'It is,' I answered drily; but he was not to be denied.
'Monsieur is out early, I see.'
'Monsieur is out late, you mean,' I made answer, playing my part, and
longing for Pantin to return.
'Ho! ho!' he roared; 'a good joke--captain, I do not know you, but
tell me your name, and, curse me, if I do not drink your health in
Arbois the day you ride to Montfaucon.'
'You will know my name soon enough,' I answered, humouring the fellow,
'and I promise to send you the Arbois the day I ride there. I may tell
you that it was to the Toison d'Or I was recommended by my friends;
but your Beaugency and your company are so good _compere_ that I shall
make this my house of call during my stay in the Faubourg St. Martin.'
'Damn the Toison d'Or,' he exclaimed, 'and you are a good fellow. Let
me warn you in turn that the Toison d'Or is no longer safe.'
'What do you mean?' I asked, leaning forwards.
'For you, and for me, monsieur.'
'Ah--my luck is good as your wine,' and at that moment I caught sight
of Pantin. 'There is another crown to drink to our friendship, and
mind you keep as good a flask for me against my return at noon--_au
revoir!_ I have a business at my lodging.'
The wretch overwhelmed me with thanks and stood at the door watching
me as I crossed over the street, with a warning glance to Pantin, and
strolled slowly onwards. A little further on I turned to my left,
keeping well in the middle of the road to avoid the filth and refuse
thrown carelessly on each side, and as I turned I saw that my man had
gone in. I was certain of one thing, that the Toison d'Or was not far
off, and whilst I picked my way slowly along Pantin came up to me with
his sing-song whine.
'Have you found it?' I asked in a low tone.
'No,' he sang out.
At this moment a figure rose up from the steps of a house where I had
noticed it crouching, a few feet from me, and swung forwards.
'Hola! 'Tis Monsieur le Capitaine! Has your excellency tasted the
Beaugency--the dog-poison. I tell your excellency there is but one
house in the Faubourg where they sell it--the Toison d'Or.'
'Go and drink some there, then,' and I tossed him a piece of silver.
He picked it up from the road where it had fallen like a dog snatching
at a bone, and then stood surveying the coin, which he held in the
open palm of his hand.
'_You_ might,' he said; 'they would not serve me,' and then with a
drunken familiarity he came close to my elbow. 'I'll show you the
Toison d'Or. It is there--the second turn to the left and then
straight before you. As for me, I go back to taste Grigot's
Beaugency--his dog-poison,' he repeated with the spiteful insistence
of a man in his cups.
'The fool in his folly speaketh wisdom!' Pantin muttered under his
breath, and then the man, staggering from me, attempted to go back
whence he had been flung, but either the morning air was too strong
for him, or else he was taken with a seizure of some kind, for ere he
had gone ten paces he fell forwards on his face, and lay there in the
slime of the street.
At any other time I would have stopped to assist the man, but now I
could only look upon his condition as a direct interposition of
Providence and I let him lay where he had fallen.
'Come, Pantin,' I cried, 'we have found the spot.'
Following the directions given by our guide we found he had not
deceived us, and in a few minutes I was standing at the entrance of
the blind passage, at one end of which was the Toison d'Or.
The wasps' nest was not yet awake, but as I stood for a moment
discussing with Pantin what we should do next, a couple of men well
muffled in cloaks passed down the lane on the opposite side, and it
was all I could do to preserve an expression of unconcern on my face,
for in one of the two I recognised Lafin. He, too, stooped for a
moment, as if to fasten a point that had come undone, and, whilst
doing so, fixed his eyes full on me. I met his gaze as one might look
at a perfect stranger, but seeing he continued it, put my hand to the
hilt of my sword with a scowl. The doubt on his face cleared on the
instant to a look of relief, and I saw his thin lips curve into a
slight smile of contempt as he rose and walked quietly after his
companion. That swaggering movement of my hand to my sword-hilt had
convinced him that I was one of the swashbucklers of the Faubourg St.
Martin, and as such unworthy even of the contempt of the heir of the
Vidame.
'Who is it?' asked Pantin, who had been observing me closely.
'Lafin.'
'Are you sure, monsieur?'
I nodded, and he went on, 'Then, monsieur, if I mistake not, M. le
Vicompte is right, and we hunt the boar as well as the wolf. I will
give word of this at the Arsenal before three hours are over.'
We then went slowly towards the Toison d'Or in the same order on which
we had come up the Rue St. Martin, my heart full of strange misgivings
at Lafin's presence in the street. The sun had already whitened the
gables of the houses, but so narrow was the passage that it seemed as
if it must always be in shadow. There were a few people stirring--one
or two street urchins, who flung gibes at Pantin, but gave me a wide
berth; half a dozen women, in whose faces sin and want had set their
seals, and a man or two of the worst class. Beyond the high, dead wall
which closed in the passage I could now see the tops of some trees,
and judged from this that we were almost upon the walls of Paris, and
in this, as it turned out, I was right. At last I came opposite the
Toison d'Or. The gate leading into the little court was shut, and so
was every window facing the street. The signboard was swinging sadly
over the closed door, and at the first glance it looked as if the
house was deserted. For a moment the thought struck me to knock boldly
at the door, and when it was opened to force my way in and trust to
luck for the rest, but I was cooled on the instant when I thought what
failure meant. I would trust as little to chance as possible. I passed
slowly on, and found that the Toison d'Or joined on to another, but
much smaller, house which had its bound set to it by the wall that
crossed the street. The sash of a window on the top story of this
house was up, and as I came up to it the front door swung open and a
man stood on the steps and looked me full in the face. As my glance
passed him, I saw that the door opened into a room that was used
apparently as a shop for all kinds of miscellaneous articles, and the
man himself would have stood well for the picture of a thieves' fence,
which, indeed, he was.
'A good morning, captain,' he said. 'Will you buy--or have you come to
sell?' he asked, dropping his voice.
As he spoke, Pantin came up and began to importune the man from a safe
distance to purchase his wares, but beyond a curse had no further
attention paid to him, and with a disappointed air he went slowly back
towards the Toison d'Or. It flashed upon me that something had fallen
my way. 'I have come to buy _compere_,' I answered, and, stepping into
the shop, began to examine a few cast-off doublets, and flung them
aside, demanding one on which the gold lace was good. A woman joined
the man at this time, and whilst they were rummaging amongst their
stores I hastily ran over in my mind the plan I had formed. If I could
get a lodging here I would be in a position to watch who came and went
from the house and strike my blow with deliberation and certainty. So
at last when the doublet was shown to me, though the price was
exorbitant I paid it without demur, and on the man asking if it should
be sent to my lodging, I pretended to hesitate for a moment, and then
explaining that as I had just come to Paris, and was in search of a
lodging, I would take the doublet with me.
'Monsieur must have scaled the city walls last night, then?' the man
said with a sly look.
'Exactly,' I answered.
The woman, however, here cut in and explained that if it was a lodging
I needed they could accommodate me.
'All the more if you buy as well as you do now, captain,' said the
man.
'I will sell you as cheap as you want besides,' I answered, 'but let
me see the rooms.'
'There is but one room, monsieur,' answered the woman, 'but it is
large and furnished,' and then she led me up the stairway. The room
was certainly large beyond the ordinary, but I was disappointed beyond
measure at finding that it was at the back of the house and would
prevent me from watching who came in and out of the Toison d'Or. I
objected to the situation, saying that I wanted a room overlooking the
street.
'There is none,' she answered shortly, 'but if monsieur desires to
look on the street he may do so from the window at the end of this
passage.'
She pointed to a narrow passage that led from the door of the room to
a small hanging turret, and from the arched windows of this I saw that
I could see all I wanted without being seen myself. The woman seemed
to be of the same kidney as her husband, and drove a close bargain,
and after much pretended haggling I closed with her terms, and
arranged also for her to bring me my meals, explaining that for the
next week or so I would stay indoors as my health was not good.
'I understand, monsieur,' she said, showing her teeth.
'Then it is settled, and I will step down and bring up the doublet
which I left in the shop.' With these words I counted out the rent and
the money for my board, coin by coin, into her hand, as if each piece
I disgorged was my last, and then stepping down, found, as I expected,
Pantin at the door.
The man was for ordering him away, but his wife insisted on making a
purchase, in which I joined, and the fence going upstairs at that
time, we three were left together. It was all important to get rid of
the woman for a moment or so, and Pantin, seeing this, sold his whole
basket load at a price so small that it raised even her astonishment.
'I have sold it for luck,' he said, 'but if madame wishes, I will sell
her daily at the same rate.'
'Could you bring me fruit at the same price?' I asked.
'Why not?' he answered.
'Then bring me some to-morrow.'
'Certainly, captain. Where shall I put these, madame?'
But she bore them away herself, and this gave me the opportunity.
'Pantin,' I said, 'I have taken a room here--you understand?'
'And I,' he answered, 'have sold a cabbage to Babette. If you hear
nothing more, meet me at dusk in the square behind St. Martin's.'
There was no time to say more, for we heard the fence coming back.
Pantin went off down the street, and I, after a word or two with the
man, and an order to his wife regarding my meals, went slowly up to my
room.