The Minister of War.
"You come a little late, Monsieur St. Georges," the harsh, raucous,
and underbred voice of Louvois said--"a little late. Too late by far
for an officer selected by his Majesty for special service."
He turned his back upon his visitor as he spoke, changing the position
he had assumed in front of the great fireplace in the room set apart
as his cabinet in the Louvre, and seemed now only intent on watching
the logs burning in the grate, and of dismissing--or insulting--the
_chevau-leger_.
"Perhaps when M. de Louvois has heard my explanation of the reason why
I am late, have tarried on my road, he may be disposed to overlook my
dilitoriness," St. Georges replied, regarding the back of the
_roturier_ minister as he spoke; and the well-bred tones in which he
uttered the words caused Louvois to turn around and face him again.
They made a strange contrast as they stood there. Both men were more
than ordinarily tall, yet both carried their height differently.
Louvois's was decreased in appearance by the heaviness of his
shoulders, his head being deep set between them. St. Georges was as
erect as a dart; while, as he faced the man whom, by some innate
perception, he regarded as an enemy--or, at least, not a friend--his
head was thrown back, so that his height and uprightness seemed
somehow increased. Moreover, the whole appearance of each was in
extreme contrast, and that not a contrast in favour of the minister.
The stained military jacket of the soldier, the long, brown leather
boots, the large cavalry spurs, the great bowl-hilted sword, all gave
him an appearance of advantage over the sombre, velvet-clad Louvois;
the long, curling hair falling on his shoulders in a thick mass was
more becoming than the wig _a trois marteaux_ which Louvois wore
outside state functions. And for the rest, the pale yet
weather-exposed face of the one, with its long, deep, chestnut
mustache, caused the cadaverous and coarse-cut features of the
other--the thick, bulbous nose and full, sensual lips--to appear
insignificant, if not ignoble.
Louvois had kept him waiting three hours in the anteroom--a thing
which, however, he would have done in any case and to any one seeking
an interview with him, excepting only some scion of royalty,
legitimate or illegitimate, one of the king's marshals, or a relative
of one of the king's mistresses--for he understood as well as any
vulgar, important _parvenu_ of to-day, or thought he understood, the
value of administering such snubs. And, now that the visitor was
admitted, his manner was as insulting and as would-be humiliating as
he knew how to fashion it. Moreover, with another trait of vulgarity
as common in those days as these, he had bidden him to no seat.
His behaviour was the ignoble spite of the man who believed he saw in
the other the son of him who had consistently ignored his
existence--the late Duc de Vannes.
"The explanation," he said, in answer to St Georges's remark, and
speaking in a voice which he endeavoured to render cold and haughty,
but which was, in truth, an angry, bitter one, "will have to be very
full, very complete, to satisfy his Majesty. You quitted the garrison
of Pontarlier on the last night of the last year, riding on special
service in the king's name, and you have tarried long on the road in,
I imagine, your own service. Beyond bringing one message--that from
the Bishop of Lodeve--you have failed in your duty, sir; indeed,
failed so much that the Marquise de Roquemaure, from whom you were
ordered to bring another message, has actually preceded your arrival
here. Has passed you on the road and entered Paris before you, though
you quitted her manoir before she did; has, indeed, been able to give
an interesting account of you and your supposed adventures."
"Supposed!" exclaimed St. Georges quietly--"supposed! Does madame la
marquise stigmatize them as 'supposed,' or does monsieur le ministre,
Monsieur de Louvois, apply that epithet to them?" and as he spoke,
with still his head thrown back and his left hand resting lightly in
the cup of his sword hilt, he looked very straight into the eyes of
Louvois.
"Madame la marquise is a woman; she believes--and tells--a story as
she hears it."
St. Georges bent his head for a moment, then as quietly as he asked
the previous question, but equally as clearly and distinctly as he had
previously spoken, he said:
"Monsieur Louvois will remember he is speaking to a soldier."
"_Et puis?_"
"Who permits no one, not even the minister of the army, who is his
superior, to question his veracity. What he told madame he told as it
happened."
Louvois laughed somewhat sinisterly and wholly insultingly, yet for
him quietly, after which he said:
"Monsieur St. Georges is also something else besides a soldier--as,
indeed, his present manner proclaims. A little of--if I may say it
without fear of being done to death on my own hearth--a bully."
"A bully!"
"I fear so, disguised in the uniform of the king. It was bully's work
which you performed in the graveyard of Aignay-le-Duc--work which if
done by others than soldiers would lead to the halter; work which,
when done by soldiers, leads generally to a file of their brethren--to
a platoon."
If St. Georges could have had his way, followed his own bent, it would
have been his right hand instead of left which would have grasped his
sword, and he would have bidden the minister unsheath his own weapon
and answer for his words. Yet, since he was no fool, he saw at once
that for some purpose of his own Louvois was endeavouring to anger
him, to lead him into an outbreak of irritation, and he refused to be
so led, so trapped. Instead, he replied, therefore:
"Monsieur is, I think, the father of children himself. A few words
will, therefore, show him, prove to him, my excuse. I bore with me my
child; I was set upon by hired ruffians, and in the defence of that
child--by the aid of another stalwart arm--I resisted them, slew some,
drove some away, disarmed others. Yet, monsieur, this was not the
worst, not quite the worst, against which I had to contend."
The piercing eyes of the minister of war were resting fixedly on him
as he spoke--almost, it seemed, as though he feared what might come
next.
St. Georges proceeded:
"Not quite the worst. This gang of hired ruffians was led by one, a
cowardly hound, who feared to show his face! by one who--so accurately
had he been notified, forewarned, of my approach--must have received
his intelligence from Paris, from some one who knew what my movements
would be at the time. Strange, was it not, monsieur le ministre?"
Louvois's face seemed less empurpled than before--to have turned
white; then, brusquely, as always, he said:
"You are here, sir, to answer questions, not to ask them. Proceed."
"From Paris alone," St. Georges continued, "could that intelligence
have come, since he was there with his ruffians to meet and intercept
me--though I should not omit to state that, from the time I left
Dijon, there followed ever in my course another knave, who took to
this craven assassin the news that I was not alone. Certain it is, he
would have been of no avail, nor have been sent, had not the others
known well of my intended journey. Monsieur le ministre, are you sure,
do you think, that in your _bureau_ here"--the words fell clear and
distinct as he spoke--"there is any foul, crawling creature, say, a
low-born clerk, say, some ignoble menial--it could have been none with
the instincts of a true-born gentleman of France!--who would have set
so deep and foul a plot as this to waylay an innocent man?"
He saw--and, seeing, knew where one of his enemies, at least, was--the
slight wince which Louvois gave--above all, the minister hated to have
it known that his origin had but one or two generations of gentility
to it!--and he knew also that he had laid his finger on one knot in
the net. Then Louvois spoke:
"It is impossible that such can be the case. And accusations against
persons who have no existence will not save you. You have failed in
your duty. Is this all the explanation you have to offer me?"
"It is all I have to offer you, monsieur. If it is not sufficient, I
must address myself to the head of the army--to the king himself."
"I am afraid you will have little opportunity." Then turning like a
tiger toward him, he said: "Your case has been considered during your
procrastination; your easily made journey by extremely short and
comfortable stages. Monsieur St. Georges, you are no longer in the
army. The king has no further need of your valuable services."
"What! Dismissed without appeal--without----"
"Your appeal is heard and disapproved of--by me. Had it been made
differently--your explanation couched in more respectful terms, had
carried with it more conviction to my mind--this," and he handed him a
paper, "would have been destroyed instead of being given to you. As it
is, read it, and act on it. Otherwise the results will be unfortunate.
Observe also the signatures to it. They are neither those of 'low-born
clerks' nor 'ignoble menials';" and he stepped back to the fire and
stood regarding his victim.
Certainly one signature came not under the category of the above
terms, it being that of Louis himself; the other was that of Louvois,
and, perhaps, was open to cavil. But St. Georges was immersed in the
document itself: beyond the (to him) fatal signature of the king, the
other was of scant importance for the moment.
The paper ran as follows:
"MONSIEUR ST. GEORGES: Being extremely displeased with you
for the manner in which you have tarried on your road from
Pontarlier to Paris and have failed in the secret mission on
which I employed you--namely, to bring me (without more
delay than such which might by _force majeure_ arrive)
messages from two of my subjects--I write you this to say,
first, you are no longer an officer in my regiment of the
Chevaux-Legers of Nivernosi; secondly, you are at once to
quit my kingdom of France and the dependencies thereof,
wheresoever situated. In which, desiring that you fail not
at once to obey my second behest, I pray that God will have
you, Monsieur St. Georges, in his holy keeping.
"Written at Paris the 15th January, 1688.
"_Signe_ LOUIS.
_Soussigne_ LOUVOIS."
Briefly St. Georges said to Louvois:
"And if I fail in this second behest, what then? What if I refuse to
quit France?"
"That I leave you to imagine. Sir, our interview is at an end;" and he
rang a bell as he spoke, and when it was answered by a gorgeous
footman, said:
"Escort this gentleman to the courtyard."
St. Georges, however, made no sign of following the servant, but,
instead, advanced a step closer to Louvois, so that when he stood
nearer to him than he had hitherto done, the latter gave unmistakable
signs of apprehension. Yet, seeing that there was no threatening
appearance on the other's face and that his sword hung idle and
untouched by his side, he said:
"You do not hear me, sir, it would seem. Our interview is at an end."
"Not yet," replied St. Georges, very calmly. "You have delivered your
decision--I refuse to believe it is the king's. And until I receive it
from his own lips, I shall neither quit Paris nor France."
"You will not?"
"I will not."
"So," replied Louvois in a harsh tone, "that is _your_ decision." Then
changing his tone to one which, perhaps, he thought more effective--a
gentler, more subtle tone--he said: "You are, I think, unwise. The
king will not see you; and--meanwhile--he can find means to exercise
his authority, to have his orders executed."
"The king _will_ see me, I think. Monsieur Louvois, I have a petition
to present to his Majesty."
"A petition!"
"Against three of his subjects, all of whom, as I do believe before
God, have been engaged in a most foul attempt against me and my child.
Monsieur le ministre, shall I mention the names of those subjects of
the king?" and his eye glanced at the servant as he spoke.
"No, be silent," replied Louvois; "also I bid you beware what you say,
what do. Monsieur St. Georges," he continued, breaking out into one of
those heats of rage which were usual with him, while, even as he did
so, he roughly motioned the servant at the door to quit the
room.--"Monsieur St. Georges, do you know the deadly peril in which
you stand? Do you know, I say? If it pleases me I have enough
authority to commit you to the Bastille to-night, to Vincennes, to
Bicetre--the power to arrest you here in this room. If I summon that
servant again, a file of mousquetaires will be sent for; if I touch
this bell"--and he pointed to another than the one which he had
already rung--"they will appear. Monsieur St. Georges, will you quit
Paris to-night and France directly afterward, or shall I call in the
soldiers?"
"Call in the soldiers," the other replied, now thoroughly desperate,
"or the servant, or as many of your following as you choose! Only--ere
you do so hear me," and he raised his hand in so authoritative a
manner that Louvois, who had made a step toward the bell, paused in
astonishment. Then St. Georges continued: "I am resolved to obtain an
audience of the king to-night, and can do so if not thwarted. My
charger is fleeter than the horses of his state carriage; I can reach
Marly as soon as he. To-day is Thursday, _le jour des audiences
iconnues_; it is my chance. Now, monsieur, shall I see the king
to-night unmolested, unprevented by you, or shall I be dragged before
him an assassin to plead my cause? A murderer, but a righteous one?"
"An assassin--a murderer!" exclaimed Louvois, stepping back, while his
face blanched. "Explain yourself."
"Then listen--and--abstain from that bell till you have heard
me"--seeing that the other's eye roved toward it. "I intend," speaking
rapidly, "to see the king to-night or in the morning at latest, and to
tell him of the foul plot of which an officer of his _chevaux-legers_
has been the victim; to ask him if, bearing this about me"--and he
produced from his breast the letter ordering him to leave Pontarlier
and travel to Paris--"he approves of the manner in which I have been
spied upon, tracked, nigh done to death, and robbed of my most
precious treasure, my child; to sue for permission to seek out those
who have done this thing and bring them at last to justice. And, M. de
Louvois, I tell you face to face and man to man that, if you approach
that bell, summon your soldiers until I am outside this door, they
shall find you a dead man when they open it! Once outside I can answer
for myself. Now choose!"
And as he spoke his right hand went round to his sword-hilt, while his
left raised the scabbard, so that the blade could easily be drawn.