Many days had elapsed since Master Isnard had been driven so
unceremoniously from Maison-Forte des Anbiez.
The conduct of the baron toward the deputy of the marshal, the Duke of
Vitry, had been generally approved by the nobility of the neighbourhood.
A very small number of gentlemen had submitted to the orders of the
governor.
Master Isnard, established in a hostelry of La Ciotat, had despatched a
messenger to Marseilles for the purpose of informing the marshal of the
lively resistance he had encountered upon the subject of the census of
arms.
The citizens generally ranged themselves on the side of the nobility and
the clergy, who defended Provençal rights and privileges.
The three estates--the holy clergy, the illustrious nobility, and the
Provençal republic and communities, as Cæsar de Nostradamus names them
in his history of Provence--sustained themselves against a common enemy,
which is to say, against any governor who attacked their privileges,
or, in the opinion of the Proven-çals, was unworthy of governing their
country.
Nevertheless, transient divisions occurred between the nobility and the
citizens when particular interests became involved.
Master Isnard had arrived in La Ciotat at a time when some feeling of
resentment against Raimond V. was being manifested.
One of the consuls of the town, Master Talebard-Talebardon, sustained in
the name of the citizens a lawsuit against the baron, upon the subject
of certain fishing-nets, which he claimed the lord of Anbiez had laid
without legal right in a bay outside his privilege, and thereby was
injuring the interests of the town.
Although the inhabitants of La Ciotat had, on many occasions, found aid
and support from the baron, although at the last descent of the pirates
he had, at the head of his own household servants, fought valiantly, and
almost saved the city, the gratitude of the citizens did not extend to
an absolute submission to the will of Raimond V.
The consul Talebard-Talebardon, a personal enemy of the baron, always
exaggerating the faults of this nobleman, had so envenomed the question,
that great disaffection was already being manifested among the citizens.
Arriving at this time, Master Isnard excited these dissensions, fanned
the fire, and spoke at length of his cruel reception at Maison-Forte.
Although he was not of the country, he succeeded in making the outrage
done him appear as a question between the nobility and the citizens.
The recorder induced the consuls to withdraw within the limits of their
dignity, and, instead of continuing the amicable negotiations already
initiated, to insist upon the baron’s appearance before the tribunal of
overseers.
This malevolent disposition once gaining ground, the malcontents did not
stop there. They forgot the real services that Raimond V. had rendered
to the city, his generous hospitality, the good that he was doing in the
neighbourhood, to remember that he was abusive, hotheaded, and always
ready to lift his rod.
They exaggerated the havoc made by his dogs in the chase; they spoke of
the brutal manner in which he had treated the citizens at the time
of their complaint concerning the fishing-nets; in short, after the
appearance of the recorder in La Ciotat, they began to speak of the
Baron des Anbiez as a veritable feudal tyrant.
While the storm was gathering on that side, the most perfect
tranquillity reigned in Maison-Forte.
Raimond V. drank and hunted in the finest style, going through his
domains almost every day, with an unequalled activity; he visited his
neighbours at their country-seats, in order to preserve, as he said, the
sacred fire, or, rather, the general opposition to the Marshal of
Vitry, demanding from each one his signature, appended to a supplication
addressed to the king.
In this manifesto, or public declaration, the Provençal nobility
formally demanded the recall of the marshal, reminding Louis XIII. that
his father, of glorious memory, the great Henri, had, under similar
circumstances, recalled the Duke d’Epernon, in order to redress the
just complaints of the country.
Finally, the nobility expressed, in this act, their respectful regrets
not to be able to submit to the orders of the cardinal, in renouncing
their right to arm their houses, inasmuch as their own safety required
that they should always be in a state of defence.
Redoubling his activity, the baron regained, as he said, the legs and
arms of twenty years, in this crusade against Marshal of Vitry.
Such was the moral aspect of Maison-Forte some days after the event of
which we have spoken.
We have not forgotten the Bohemian, who, arriving in the train of the
recorder, had, upon the baron’s invitation, scaled the balcony in so
agile and surprising a manner.
To make use of a particular and modern expression, the vagabond Bohemian
had become quite the fashion in the rustic and warlike habitation of
Raimond V.
In the first place, he had mended numerous household utensils with
remarkable skill.
Then Eclair, the favourite greyhound of the baron, put her paw out
of joint, whereupon the Bohemian went up on the mountain and gathered
certain herbs by the light of the moon, and carefully wrapped the sick
member in them, and the next day Eclair was able to stretch her legs on
the rosy heather of the baronial plains and valleys.
That was not all. Mistraon, the favourite horse of Raimond V., was
wounded in the frush of his foot by a sharp stone; by means of a thin
layer of iron deftly inserted in the slope of the shoe, the Bohemian
made a sort of Turkish horseshoe, which ever after preserved the invalid
foot of Mistraon from all injury.
The baron doted on the Bohemian. Dame Dulceline herself, notwithstanding
her holy horror of this unbeliever, who, never having been baptised,
could not bear the name of Christian, relented somewhat when the
unbeliever gave her marvellous recipes for colouring pieces of glass,
stuffing birds, and making excellent cordials.
The good Abbé Mascarolus was not less under the charm, thanks to some
pharmaceutic specifics of which the Bohemian had given him the secret.
The only regret of the worthy chaplain was to find the vagabond so
obstinate and shy upon the subject of his conversion.
Such was the serious side of the Bohemian’s qualifications. To that
he united the most versatile and agreeable accomplishments. He had in
a little cage two beautiful pigeons, which showed an almost superhuman
intelligence; his ass astonished the household of Maison-Forte by the
grace with which he walked on his hind legs; besides, the Bohemian
played with iron balls and daggers as well as the best juggler from
India; he was as good a marksman as the most accomplished carabineer;
and, finally, to conclude the enumeration of this vagabond’s wonderful
attractions, he sang charmingly, as he accompanied himself on a sort of
Moorish guitar with three strings.
It was doubtless to this talent that he owed the nickname of the
“Singer,” by which he was known among his comrades.
Stephanette was the first to inform her mistress of the new troubadour;
in fact, although he was rather ugly than handsome, the flexible and
expressive features of the Bohemian seemed almost charming when he sang
his soft and melancholy songs.
One must understand the calm, monotonous life of the inmates of
Maison-Forte, to comprehend the success of the Bohemian.
Reine, beset by the entreaties of Stephanette, finally consented to hear
him.
Honorât de Berrol, together with his betrothed, had made a visit to
Marseilles, without the knowledge of Raimond V., to learn the results of
the complaints entered by the recorder.
In case the baron had aught to fear from these complaints, Honorât
was immediately to inform Reine, and employ the influence of one of
her relatives, who was a friend of Marshal of Vitry, to subdue the
resentment raised by the imprudent conduct of the baron.
Reine hoped to find some distraction to her sad thoughts, by listening
to the songs of the Bohemian.
The image of the unknown hero haunted her more and more. The
fantastical, mysterious circumstances, which had so strangely excited
her memory, interested and frightened her at the same time; in the
meanwhile, desiring, or, rather, thinking to put an end to this romantic
adventure, she had, to the great joy of Honorât, fixed her marriage on
the day following the festivity of Christmas, and yet, the nearer the
day approached, the more she repented of her promise.
In the very depths of her heart she would ask herself with a vague fear
if she no longer loved her betrothed as in the past. But this question
remained unanswered; the young girl did not dare, so to speak, to listen
to the response made by her conscience.
Reine was seated in sad meditation in the little turret which served her
as a drawing-room, when Stephanette entered and said to her mistress:
“Mademoiselle, here is the Singer; he is in the passage, shall I ask
him to enter?”
“For what purpose?” said Reine, with indifference. “For what
purpose, mademoiselle? Why, to distract you from these witchcrafts
which torment you. What a pity this unbeliever is an unbeliever! Really,
mademoiselle, since he has left off his leather jerkin, and monseigneur
has made him a present of a scarlet doublet, he looks like a gendarme,
and more, too, he has a golden tongue, I answer for it. And I was
obliged, if you please, to give him the flame-coloured ribbon I always
wore around my head to fasten his collar, you see. Without that he would
not dare, so he said, to present himself before mademoiselle.”
“I see, my dear, that you have sacrificed yourself,” said Reine,
smiling in spite of herself. “I doubt if Luquin will congratulate
you very much on this disinterested devotion. But where is this brave
captain, and when will he return?”
“This evening or to-morrow morning, mademoiselle; the fishermen met
him near Trefus. He was obliged to lessen the speed of his tartan to
accommodate the large ships that he was escorting from Nice.”
“And do you think that he would like to have you give ribbons to this
strolling singer?”
“By Our Lady! whether he likes it or not does not matter to me. If it
is necessary to obtain some amusement for my dear mistress I would not
hesitate for a cheap piece of ribbon.”
“Ah, Stephanette, Stephanette! you are a real coquette. I have seen
the sharp black eyes of this vagabond looking into yours more than
once.”
“That shows, mademoiselle, that he approves of Lu-quin’s taste,
and my captain ought to feel flattered by it,” answered Stephanette,
smiling.
“You are wrong; you will make your betrothed angry,” replied Reine,
with a more serious expression.
“Ah, my dear mistress, cannot one love her betrothed faithfully and
tenderly, and amuse herself with the flatteries of a vagabond foreigner,
as you call him?”
Reine took this response, to which Stephanette had attached no
significance, as an allusion to her own thoughts.
She looked at her attendant sternly, and said, with an imperious air,
“Stephanette!”
The pretty, innocent face of the young girl suddenly assumed an
expression of such sadness as she raised her large eyes, in which a
tear glittered, full of a grieved surprise to her mistress, that Reine
extended her hand to her and said:
“Come, come, you are a foolish but a good and honest girl.”
Stephanette, smiling through her tears, kissed the hand of her mistress
with affectionate gratitude, and said, as she wiped her eyes with the
end of her slender fingers: “Shall I tell the Singer to come in,
mademoiselle?”
“Yes, go and tell him, since you wish it; let the sacrifice of your
flame-coloured ribbon do some good at least.”
Stephanette smiled with an mischievous air, went out, and returned
followed by the Bohemian.