ARNAULD DU THILL'S BUCOLIC DREAMS
The Constable de Montmorency, who had only returned to Paris the night
before, after paying a royal sum by way of ransom, had presented himself
at the Louvre to ascertain how the land lay; but Henri had received him
with forbidding coolness, and had indulged himself in the highest
encomiums upon the administration of the Duc de Guise, who had so
arranged matters, he said, as to diminish, if not altogether to amend,
the misfortunes of the kingdom.
The constable, pale with anger and jealousy, thought that he might at
least hope to find some comfort from Diane de Poitiers. But the favorite
also received him very coldly; and when Montmorency complained of such
a reception, and gave voice to his fear that his absence had been a very
bad thing for him, and that some more fortunate man than he had
succeeded him in the good graces of the duchess, Madame de Poitiers
rejoined impertinently,--
"_Dame_! of course you know the new by-word of the Parisian populace?"
"I arrived but now, Madame; and I do not know," the constable began
hesitatingly.
"Oh, well! they say now, this scandal-loving populace, 'This is the
motto of St. Laurent: he who forsakes his post, loses it.'"
The constable, with a blanched face, saluted the duchess, and left the
Louvre with death at his heart.
When he reached his hotel and was alone in his own room, he cast his hat
violently on the floor.
"Oh, these kings and these women!" he cried. "An ungrateful lot they
are! They care for nothing but success."
"Monseigneur," said his valet, "there is a man asking leave to speak to
you."
"Let him go to the devil!" retorted the constable. "I am in fine
condition to receive visitors! Send him to Monsieur de Guise."
"Monseigneur, this man begged me to tell you his name, which he says is
Arnauld du Thill."
"Arnauld du Thill!" exclaimed the constable, "that's a different matter.
Show him in."
The valet bowed and withdrew.
"This fellow Arnauld," the constable reflected, "is clever, cunning, and
avaricious,--more than that, he has no scruples and conscience. Oh, if
he could only help me to be revenged on all these people! To be
revenged, do I say? But what should I gain by that? He might possibly
help me to make my way back into favor! He knows many things. It has
already occurred to me to make use of my knowledge of this Montgommery
affair; but it would be much better if I might learn something from
Arnauld which would enable me to dispense with doing that."
At this moment Arnauld du Thill was ushered into the room.
Joy and impudence were struggling for the mastery in the rascal's
expression. He bowed to the ground before the constable.
"I thought you were a prisoner," said Montmorency.
"So I was, Monseigneur, just as you were."
"But you seem to have got out of the difficulty," rejoined the
constable.
"Yes, Monseigneur; I paid them in my money,--that is to say, I laughed
at them instead. You used your money and I used my wits; and here we are
both at liberty."
"Ah, you are an impudent scoundrel," said the constable.
"No, Monseigneur," rejoined Arnauld, "it was just my modest way of
saying that I am out of money, that's all."
"Hum!" grumbled Montmorency; "what do you want of me?"
"Money, since I have none, Monseigneur."
"And why should I give you money?"
"Why, to pay me, Monseigneur," replied the spy.
"Pay you for what, pray?"
"For the intelligence I bring you."
"Tell me your news."
"Let me see your crowns."
"Villain! suppose I were to have you hanged?"
"A most contemptible way that of loosening my tongue, Monseigneur, to
stretch my neck."
"He is so very audacious," thought the constable, "that he must know
that I can't do without him."
"Well, fellow," he said, aloud, "I have no objection to making some
slight further advance to you."
"Monseigneur is very kind," said Arnauld; "and I will not fail to remind
him of his generous promise when he has settled up his outstanding debt
to me."
"What debt?" asked the constable.
"Here is my account, Monseigneur," said Arnauld, producing the famous
document which we have seen him at work on so often.
Anne de Montmorency cast his eyes over it.
"Yes," said he, "this paper contains, besides services which are
entirely fanciful and imaginary, others which might have been very
useful to me at the time when you rendered them, considering my
situation at that time, but which at present serve no purpose except to
make my regrets all the more poignant."
"Bah, Monseigneur! it may be that you exaggerate the extent of your
disgrace," said Arnauld.
"What's that?" said the constable. "Do you know, then, pray, does
everybody already know, that I am in disgrace?"
"People suspect as much; and so do I, Monseigneur."
"Very well, then, Arnauld," Montmorency rejoined bitterly; "you may very
well suspect too that it is of no use to me at present that Vicomte
d'Exmès and Diane de Castro were separated at St. Quentin, since in all
probability the king and the grande sénéchale are no longer willing to
give their daughter to my son."
"_Mon Dieu_, Monseigneur!" was Arnauld's response. "I imagine that the
king would very gladly consent to give her to you if you could give her
back to him."
"What do you mean?"
"I say, Monseigneur, that our sire, Henri II., ought to be very sad at
heart at this moment, not only because of the loss of St. Quentin and
the battle of St. Laurent, but also because of the loss of his dearly
loved daughter Diane de Castro, who disappeared after the siege of St.
Quentin without leaving any traces by which it is possible to tell what
has become of her; for there have been twenty contradictory and
inconsistent reports about her disappearance. Having only returned
yesterday, of course you know nothing of all this, Monseigneur; I didn't
know it myself until this morning."
"I had so many other things to think of," said the constable, "it was
quite natural that I should be thinking of my present disgrace rather
than of my past favor."
"Very true!" said Arnauld; "but would not that favor how back in your
direction if you should say to the king something like this, for
instance: 'Sire, you are sorrowing for your daughter, and searching for
her everywhere, and asking news of her from every one you see; but I
alone know where she is, Sire?'"
"Do you mean to say that you know, Arnauld?" asked Montmorency, eagerly.
"My trade is to know things," said the spy. "I told you that I had news
to sell; and you see that my goods are not of poor quality. You should
reflect on that, Monseigneur."
"I reflect," said the constable, "that kings have a way of remembering
the defeats of their servants, but not their merits. When I have
restored Henri's daughter to him, he will be beside himself with delight
at first; all the wealth and all the honors in his whole realm would not
be enough to requite me in the first flush of his gratitude. Then Diane
will weep, and say that she would rather die than give her hand to any
but her dear Vicomte d'Exmès; and the king, being entirely under her
control, and dominated by my bitter foes, will remember the battle that
I lost, and forget the child I have restored to him. So all my efforts
will be pushed out of sight to accomplish the happiness of Vicomte
d'Exmès."
"In that case it will be necessary," said Arnauld, with a smile of
sinister meaning, "that Vicomte d'Exmès should disappear at the moment
that Madame de Castro reappears. Ah, that would be a fine game, eh?"
"Yes; but I am reluctant to resort to such extreme measures," said the
constable. "I know that your hand is sure, and your tongue discreet;
but--"
"Oh, Monseigneur entirely mistakes my intention!" cried Arnauld,
assuming an air of injured innocence. "Monseigneur does me great
injustice! Monseigneur believed that I wished to get rid of this youth
by a--violent process." (He made an expressive gesture.) "No, a thousand
times no! I have a much better plan than that."
"What is it, pray?" asked the constable, with unfeigned interest.
"Let us first arrange our own little matters, Monseigneur. Suppose that
I tell you the place where the lost damsel is to be found. I insure the
absence and silence of your son's dangerous rival, at least for the
length of time necessary to conclude his marriage. These are two notable
services, Monseigneur. Now, in return, what will you do for me?"
"What do you ask?"
"You are reasonable, and I will be the same," rejoined Arnauld. "In the
first place, you will settle, will you not, without haggling, the little
account for past services, which I had the honor to present to you just
now?"
"Very well," replied the constable.
"I knew that we should have no difficulty on this first point,
Monseigneur. The total is an insignificant sum, and the whole amount is
hardly enough to cover the expenses of my journey, and for certain gifts
which I expect to buy before I leave Paris. But then, money isn't the
only thing in the world."
"What!" said the astonished and almost alarmed constable, "can it really
be Arnauld du Thill who says that money isn't the only thing in the
world?"
"Even Arnauld du Thill, Monseigneur, but no longer the needy and
avaricious Arnauld du Thill whom you formerly knew. No; another Arnauld,
content with the moderate fortune he has--earned, and no longer
desirous, alas! of anything except to pass the rest of his life in peace
in the country where he was born, under his paternal roof-tree, and amid
the friends of his childhood, in the bosom of his family. That was
always my dream, Monseigneur; and I have ever looked forward to that as
the peaceful and delightful termination of my--troubled life."
"Yes," said Montmorency, "if it is necessary to go through the tempest
in order to enjoy calm weather, you will surely be happy, Arnauld. But
have you made your fortune?"
"Only a moderate one, Monseigneur,--only a moderate one. Ten thousand
crowns is a fortune for a poor devil like me, especially in my humble
village, and in the bosom of my modest family."
"Your family! your village!" rejoined the constable; "you whom I
supposed to be without home or kinsfolk, and to be living on your wits
in a second-hand coat, and under an assumed name."
"My real name is Martin-Guerre, Monseigneur, and Arnauld du Thill an
assumed one, in truth. I was born at the village of Artigues, near
Rieux, where my wife and children now live."
"Your wife!" echoed old Montmorency, more and more bewildered. "Your
children!"
"Yes, Monseigneur," replied Arnauld, in the most comically sentimental
tone imaginable; "and I ought to notify you, Monseigneur, not to count
upon any further services from me, and that these two suggestions which
I have just made will be the very last I can undertake to carry out. I
am going to withdraw from business, and lead an honest life henceforth,
surrounded by the affectionate regard of my people, and the esteem of my
fellow-citizens."
"That's all very fine!" said the constable; "but if you have become so
modest and pastoral that you don't care to talk about money any more,
what price do you ask for these secrets which you say that you possess?"
"I ask for something more, and yet less, than money, Monseigneur,"
replied Arnauld, this time in his natural tone; "I ask for an
honor,--not for honors, of course, but just a little honor, of which I
am very much in need, I confess."
"Explain yourself," said Montmorency, "for you are speaking in enigmas."
"Well, then, Monseigneur, here it is: I have had a writing prepared
which attests that I, Martin-Guerre, have been in your service for so
many years as--as squire (we must draw on our imagination a bit); that
during all that time I have conducted myself as a trusty and faithful
and most devoted servant; and that this devotion, Monseigneur, you have
desired to repay by giving me a sufficient sum to enable me to pass the
rest of my life in comfort. Place your seal and your signature at the
foot of that document, Monseigneur, and we shall be quits."
"Impossible!" was the constable's response. "I should render myself
liable to a charge of forgery--that is to say, to be branded as a forger
and a felon--if I signed such a mass of lies."
"They are no lies, Monseigneur, for I have always served you faithfully,
according to my own lights; and I assure you that if I had saved all the
money I have obtained from you heretofore, it would amount now to more
than ten thousand crowns. So you do not expose yourself to any charge of
falsifying; and besides, do you think that I don't render myself liable
to very grave penalties in order to bring about the happy result of
which you have only to reap the fruits?"
"Wretch! Such a comparison--"
"Is perfectly fair, Monseigneur," Arnauld retorted. "Each of us is in
need of the other, and equality is the daughter of necessity. The spy
restores you your credit, so you must do as much for the spy. Come, no
one hears us, Monseigneur, so no false shame! Ratify the bargain; it is
a good one for me, but even better for you. Give and take, you know.
Sign, Monseigneur!"
"No, not till afterward," rejoined Montmorency. "Give and take, as you
say. In the first place, I must know the means you propose to use to
arrive at this twofold result which you promise me. I must know what has
become of Diane de Castro, and what will become of Vicomte d'Exmès."
"Very well! Except as to some minor details, I am ready to satisfy you
on these two points, Monseigneur; and you will be forced to agree that
chance and myself together have arranged things excellently well for
your interest."
"Go on!" said the constable; "I am listening."
"As far as Madame de Castro is concerned, she was neither slain nor
carried away, but simply made prisoner at St. Quentin, being included
among the fifty notable persons who were to be held to ransom. Now, why
has not the one into whose hands she has fallen made public his capture?
How is it that Madame de Castro herself has not sent any information of
her whereabouts? As to that, I am entirely in the dark. To tell the
truth, I thought she was already free, and expected to find her here in
Paris when I arrived. It was only this morning that I learned from the
public reports that nothing was known at court of her whereabouts, and
that this fact was by no means the least of Henri's causes of anxiety.
It may be that in these troublous times Madame Diane's messages may have
been misdirected or gone astray; or perhaps some other mystery may be
hidden under this delay. But at all events, I can put at rest all doubt,
and say positively where, and in whose hands, Madame de Castro is."
"That information would indeed be very valuable," said the constable.
"Where is the place, and who is the man?"
"Wait a moment, pray, Monseigneur!" said Arnauld. "Have you no wish to
be equally well informed as to Vicomte d'Exmès? For although it is a
good thing to know the whereabouts of our friends, it is even more
advantageous to be posted as to those of our enemies."
"Oh, a truce to your proverbs!" said Montmorency. "Where is this
D'Exmès?"
"Also a prisoner, Monseigneur," replied Arnauld. "Who is there who
hasn't been a prisoner more or less in these times? It has been quite
the fashion. Well, Vicomte d'Exmès has followed the fashion, and he is
a prisoner."
"But he surely will be at no loss to let his whereabouts be known," was
the rejoinder of the constable. "He must have friends and plenty of
money; no doubt he will procure the wherewithal to pay his ransom, and
will be down upon us very soon."
"You are quite right in your conjectures, Monseigneur. Yes, Vicomte
d'Exmès has money; and he is very impatient to be at liberty, and
proposes to pay his ransom at the earliest possible moment. In fact, he
has already sent a messenger to Paris to procure the price of his
freedom and hasten back to him with it."
"What can we do, then?" asked Montmorency.
"Fortunately for us, though unfortunately for him," Arnauld continued,
"the person whom he has sent to Paris in such hot haste is myself,
Monseigneur,--no other than myself, who am in Vicomte d'Exmès's service
as squire, under my real name of Martin-Guerre. You see that you can
call me a squire without falsehood."
"And have you not executed your commission, you blackguard?" said the
constable. "Have you not your pretended master's ransom already in your
pocket?"
"Indeed I have, Monseigneur, you may be quite sure, for one doesn't
leave such things on the ground. Consider, too, that not to take the
money would be to arouse suspicion. I took it to the last crown,--for
the good of the undertaking. But don't be alarmed! I shall put off
taking it to him for a long while, on one pretext or another. These ten
thousand crowns are just what I need to help me to pass the rest of my
life piously and honestly; and I should be supposed to owe them to your
generosity, Monseigneur, on the strength of the paper you are going to
sign."
"I will not sign it, you villain!" cried Montmorency. "I will not
knowingly become the accomplice of a thief."
"Oh, Monseigneur," said Arnauld, "what a harsh name that is to apply to
a stern necessity, which I submit to so that I may do you a service!
What! I allow my devotion to you to stifle the voice of my conscience,
and you recompense me thus for it? Oh, well, so be it! Let us send
Vicomte d'Exmès this sum of money, and he will be here as soon as
Madame Diane, if not before her. Whereas, if he should not receive it--"
"Well, if he should not receive it?" said the constable.
"We should gain so much time, Monseigneur. In the first place, Monsieur
d'Exmès will wait patiently a fortnight for my return. There is
naturally some delay about procuring ten thousand crowns; in fact, his
nurse didn't hand them to me till this morning."
"Did that poor creature trust you, then?"
"She trusted me, supported as I was by the viscount's ring and
handwriting, Monseigneur. Besides, she knew me perfectly well. Well,
then, we will say a fortnight of patient waiting, a week of anxious
waiting, and another week of hopeless waiting. It will be a month, or a
month and a half, before Vicomte d'Exmès will send another messenger in
search of the first. But the first will be hard to find; and if it is
not easy to get together ten thousand crowns, it will be almost
impossible to get ten thousand more. Thus you will have ample time to
marry your daughter twenty times over, Monseigneur; for Vicomte d'Exmès
will be as completely out of sight as if he were dead for more than two
months, and will not reappear, living and furious with rage, before the
beginning of the new year."
"Yes, but he will come back!" said Montmorency; "and the very first day
he will set about finding out what has become of his good squire,
Martin-Guerre, will he not?"
"Alas, Monseigneur," rejoined Arnauld, piteously, "the answer to be made
to him, I regret to inform you, will be that faithful Martin-Guerre, on
his way back to his master with the ransom which he had been sent after,
unluckily fell into the hands of a party of Spaniards, who, having
probably rifled his pockets and robbed him, cruelly hanged him at the
gates of Noyon to assure his silence."
"What's that? Do you mean to be hanged, Arnauld?"
"I have been, Monseigneur; see how zealous I am in your service. It will
only be as to the date of the execution that the various versions of the
story will differ somewhat. But can one believe plundering soldiers who
are interested in concealing the truth? Come, Monseigneur!" continued
the audacious fellow, gayly but with determination in his tone; "believe
that my precautions have been very carefully taken, and that with an
experienced blade like myself there is not the slightest danger that
your Excellency will ever be compromised. If prudence were banished from
earth, it would take refuge in the heart of a hanged man. Besides, I say
again, you will only be declaring what is true. I have served you for a
long while, as a number of your people can bear witness as well as
yourself; and you have given me quite ten thousand crowns in all, be
sure of that. Do you want me to give you a receipt for it?" added the
scamp, magnificently.
The constable could not restrain a smile.
"Yes," said he, "I do, varlet; if at the end of the account--"
Arnauld interrupted.
"Come, come, Monseigneur," said he; "you are only quibbling about the
form now, and what do superior minds like ours care for form? Just sign
without any more ado."
He spread out upon the table before Montmorency the document which
needed only his signature.
"But in the first place, the name of the city where Diane de Castro is
confined, and of the man whose prisoner she is?"
"Name for name, Monseigneur; put yours at the foot of this paper, and
you shall have the others."
"Very good," said Montmorency.
He dashed off the bold scrawl which served him for a signature.
"And the seal, Monseigneur?"
"There it is; now are you satisfied?"
"As thoroughly as if Monseigneur had given me the ten thousand crowns."
"Well, then, where is Diane?"
"In the hands of Lord Wentworth at Calais," replied Arnauld, trying to
grasp the document from the hand of the constable, who still held on to
it.
"One moment," said he; "and Vicomte d'Exmès?"
"At Calais, in the hands of Lord Wentworth."
"Then he and Diane see each other?"
"No, Monseigneur; he lives at the house of an armorer, one Pierre
Peuquoy, while she is an inmate of the governor's house. Vicomte
d'Exmès has no more idea than you, I am willing to swear, that she is
so near him."
"I must hasten to the Louvre," said the constable, relaxing his hold on
the paper.
"And I to Artigues," cried Arnauld, in triumph. "Good luck, Monseigneur!
Try not to be a constable who is laughed at again."
"Good luck, blackguard! and try not to be hung for good."
Thereupon each went his way.