The Saint Paul globe., September 05, 1897, Image 27

About The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905

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II THE GHEVfIUER D'flUßlftG I
\(< §) By S. LEVETT YEATS, 0 Ml
(> <> /;! &;
•\< I 7< Author of "The Hcmowr of SsvcllL" 'Vj V]>
Is » ? l ;
I\J ,W Copyright 1697 by Longmans, Green & Company. !'> <7
! 6! $ ; J§ j W
CHAPTER X.
An Old Friend.
I was not the man to neglect Sully's
warning, and, beside, there was an
added reason for being careful of dark
corners, as both Zamet and Lafln knew
me, and were unlikely to lose any op
portunity of doing me harm that might
c-cme their way. I could do nothing but
v/ait and exercise patience until the
month was over, and it was a hard
enough task. Beyond my daily visits to
my ordinary I went nowhere and saw
no one. I occasionally, of course, met
my landlord and his wife; but few
words passed between us, and Jacques
had become marvelously taciturn, so
that I was alone as if I were in a des
ert in that vast city, where the roar
of the day's traffic and the hum of
voices seemed to vibrate through and
possess the stillest hours of the night,
Doubtless there were men of my ac
quaintance in Paris; but I did not seek
ROMANCE IN A TRICK GARDEN.
i
I— Sentimental Youth (tragically)— Let this be the test. She loves mo.
them, for the reasons already stated,
and I lived as secluded a life as though
I had taken the vows of a hermit.
In the meantime I was more than
anxious that Jacques should execute
my plan in regard to Marie. That I felt
was a debt of honor to myself; but
though I tried the threat of dismissal
he refused to go point blank, and I was
weak enough to allow him his way. It
was one of the many inptances in which
my firmness of temper failed, but it is
not possible for a man always to keep
his heart in a Milan corselet. I could
not make out Sully's reasons for his
action. It seemed to me that he had
got all my information out of me, with
out pledging himself to anything in re
turn, and that he held me as safely as
a cat does a wounded mouse. To save
my own skin by quitting Paris was a
thought I can honestly aver that never
came to me. It could not with the all
pervading presence of my love for
madame. It was for her sake that I
was here, and for her sake I would go
cheerfully to the block if need be; but
it would not be without a try to save
her, and if the worst came to the
worst I could let all France know the
Infamy of her king. The hero worship
I had in my heart for him had given I
place to a bitter hatred for the man !
who was using his power to drive a |
woman to ruin and Inflict upon me
the most bitter sorrow. All this may
sound foolish, but suCn was my frame
of mind, and I was yet to know how
great the man was whom I hated — but
of that on another day. In the mean
time there was no news from Bidache, |
and I was kept on the cross with anx- I
iety lest some danger had befallen
my dear one there. Anet was not three
hours' ride away, and at Anet was de
Gomeron, unless indeed the conspir
ators had scattered, as was not at all
unlikely after the manner in which
they had been discovered. My doubts
in regard to madame's safety were set
at rest about three weeks after my in
terview with Sully. One evening Pan
tin knocked at my door, and, on my
bidding him enter, came in with many
apologies for disturbing me.
"But, chevalier," he added. "I have
news that monsieur will no doubt be
glad to hear."
"Then let me have it, Maitre Pantin,
for good news has been a stranger to
me for long."
"It is this: Our friend Palm arrives
In Paris tomorrow or the day after."
"And stays here?"
"No, for he comes in attendance on
Madame de la Bidache, and will doubt
less live at the Rue Varenne."
I half turned for a moment to the
window to hide the expression of joy on
my face I could not conceal otherwise.
Were it daylight I might have been
able to see the trees in the gardens
of the Rue Varenne; but it was night,
and the stars showed nothing beyond
the white spectral outline of the Tour
de Nesle beyond the Malaquais.
"Indeed, I am glad to hear this," I
Eciid as I looked round once more,
"though Paris will be dull for ma
dame."
"Not so, monsieur, for the king comes
back tomorrow, and the gossips say
that before another fortnight is out
there will be another maitresse en titre
at the Louvre. Ciel! How many of
them there have been from poor La
Fosseuse to the d'Estrees."
"Maitre Pantin, I forgot myself, will
you help yourself to the Frontignac?"
"A hundred thanks, Monsieur le
Chevalier. Is there any message for
Palm? Pouf! But I forget. What has
a handsome young spark like you got
in common with an old graybeard? You
will be at court in a week, and they
will all be there, bright-eyed d'En
tragues, Mary of Guise, Charlotte de
Givry, and—"
"Maitre Pantin, these details of the
court do not interest me. Tell Palm I
would see him as soon as he arrives.
Ask him as a favor to come here. He
&aid you were discreet — "
"And I know that Monsieur le Che
valier is likewise." With a quick move
ment of the hand the short gray goatee
that Pantin wore vanished from his
chin, and there was before me not the
face of the notary, but that of An
nette. She laughed out at the amaze
In my look, but quickly changed her
tone.
"Maitre Palm said you were to bo
trusted utterly, monsieur, and you see
I have done so. Your message will be
hs.te.ly delivered, and I premise he will
see you — but have you no other?"
"None." I answered a little bitterly.
"I have, however, and it is this," and
she placed in my hand a little packet.
"Monsieur may open that at his lei
sure," and she turned as if to go.
"One moment — I do not understand.
What is the meaning of this masquer
ade?"
"Only this, that my husband will
appear to have been at the same time
at the Quartier dv Marais as well as
the Faubourg St. Germain. I would
add that monsieur would be wise to
keep indoors as he is doing. We have
found out that the house is being
watched. Good night, monsieur," and
with a nod of her wrinkled face this
strange woman vanished.
I appeared in truth to be the sport,
of mystery, and it seemed as if one of
those sudden gusts of anger to which
I was subject was coming on me. I
controlled myself with an effort, and
with a turn of my fingers tore open the
packet, and in it lay my lost knot of
ribbon. For a moment the room
swam around me and I became as
!
, .
2 — She loves me not.
cold as ice.- Then came the revulsion,
and with trembling fingers I raised the
token to my lips and kissed it a hun
dred times. There were no written word
with it; there was nothing but this
little worn bow; but it told a whole
story to me. It had come down to
me, that ribbon that Marescot said
was hung too high for De Breuil oi!
Auriac; and God alone knows how 1
thanked him for his goodness to me.
Fur ten long minutes I was in fairy
land, and then I saw myself as I wad,
proscribed and poor, almost in the
hands of powerful enemies, striving to
fight an almost hopeless cause with
nothing on my side and everything
against me. Even were it otherwise,
the rock of Auriac was too bare to
link with the broad lands of Pelouse
and Bidache, and, love her as I did, I
could never hang my sword in my
wife's halls. It was impossible, utter
ly impossible. So I was tossed now
one way, now another, until my mortal
agony was almost insupportable.
The next day nothing would content
me but that I must report to the Rue
Varenne, and, if possible, get a glimpse
of madame as she arrived. I left in
structions that Palm should be asked
to wait for me if he came during my
absence, for my impatience was too
great to admit of my staying in for
him. I was not, however, in so great
a hurry as to neglect entirely the
warnings I had received, and dressed
myself as simply as possible, remov
ing the plumes from my hat and
wearing a stout buff coat under my
long cloak. Thus altered I might be
mistaken for a Huguenot, but hardly
any one would look for a former cava
lier of the league in the solemnly
dressed man who was strolling to the
end of the Malaquais. There i took a
boat at the Rue de Bac. At the jetty
I disembarked and went leisurely to
ward the Rue Varenne. As I was
crossing the Rue Crenelle, hard by the
logis de Conde. a half dozen gentle
men came trotting by ,and took up
the road. I stopped to let them pass,
and saw to my surprise that amongst
them were my old comrades in arms,
De Cosse-Brissac, Tavannes and De
Gie.
I was about to wave my hand in
greeting, when I recognized amongst
them the sinister face of Lafin riding
on the far side of me. Quick as thought
I pretended to have dropped something
and bent down as if to search for it.
The pace they were going at prevent
ed any one of them, not even except
ing Lafin, with his hawk's eye, from
recognizing me, but it did not prevent
Tavannes from turning in his saddle
and flinging me a piece of silver with
the gibe, "Go on all fours for that,
Maltre Huguenot." I kept my head
low. and made a rush for the silver,
whilst they rode off laughing, a laucrh
in which I joined myself, though with
different reasons. On reaching the
Rue Varenne I had no difficulty in
finding the house I sought; the arms
on the entrance sate gave me this
information; and I saw that madame
had only just arrived, and had I been
but a half hour earlier I might have
seen and even spoken with her. I hiing
about for some minutes on the chance
of getting a glimpse of her, with no
success, then finding that my loung
ing backwards and forwards outside
the gates was beginning to attract at
tention from the windows of a house
opposite, I took myself off, feeling a
little foolish at what I had done.
I came back the way I went, and as
I walked down the Malaquais met Mas
ter Jacques taking an airing with two
companions. In one of them I recog
nized Vallon, my old friend de Belin's
man, the other I did not know, though
ho wore the sang-de-boeuf livery of
the Comtes de Belin. Having no par
ticular interest in lackeys I paid him
no farther attention, though could I
THE SAINT FAUI, GLOBE): SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1897.
but hajt'e seen into the future it would
have been a good deed to have killed
him where he stood.
On seeing me Vallon and Jacques
both stopped, and I signaled to them to
cross over the road to me, as I was
anxious to hear news of Belin, who
was an intimate friend. This they did,
and on my inquiry Vallon informed
me that Belin was at his hotel in the
Rue de Bourdonnais, and the good fel
low urged me to come there at once,
saying that his master could never
forgive him were he not to insist on my
coming. I was truly glad to hear Be
lin was in Paris. He was a tried
friend, whose assistance I could rely
on in any emergency; and telling Val
lon I would be at the Rue de Bour
donnais shortly, I went on to my lodg
ing- followed by Jacques, leaving Val
lon to go onward with his companion.
On coming home, I found as might
be expected, that there was no sign of
Palm, and, after waiting for him until
the dinner hour, gave up for the pres
ent and rode off to the Two Ecus, and
when my dinner, a very simple one,
was finished, took my way to the
Rue de Bourdonnais, this time mount
ed on Couronne with Jacques well
armed on the sorrel.
The hotel of the Comtes de Belin lay
at the west end of the Rue de Bour
donnais, close to the small house where
in lived Madame de Montpensier of
dreadful memory; and on reaching it
I found that it more than justified the
description Belin had given of it to
me, one day whilst we were idling in
the trenches before Dourlens. It stood
some way back from the road, and the
entrance tc the courtyard was through
a wonderfully worked iron gateway, a
counterpart, though on a smaller scale,
of the one at Anet. At each cor
ner of the square building was a hang
ing turret, and from the look of the
windows of one of these I guessed
that my friend had taken up his quar
ters there.
I was met by Vallon, who said he
had informed his master of my coming,
and telling a servant to hold*-my horse
he ushered me in, talking on a hun
dred things at once. I had not gone ten
steps up the great stairway when Be
lin himself appeared, running down to
meet me. "Croix Dieu!" he burst out
as we embraced. "I thought you were
with the saints, and that De Rone, you
and a hundred others were free from
all earthly troubles."
"Not yet, De Belin. I trust that time
will be far distant."
"Amen! But you as good as
buried yourself alive at any rate."
"How so?"
"Vallon tells me you have been a
month in Paris, and you have never
once been in the Rue de Bcurdonnais
until now. You might have known,
man, that this house is as much yours
as mine."
"My dear friend, there were reasons."
He put a hand on each of my shoul
ders, looked at me in the face with
kind eyes, and then laughed out.
"Reasons! Pardieu! I can hardly
make you out. You have a face a half
toise in length, never a plume in your
hat. and a general look of those hard
3— She lloo—yes— o— ves me. She love— s me.
praying and, I will say, hard fighting
gentry who gave the king his own
again."
"How loyal you have become."
'•We were all wrong — the lot of vs —
and I own my mistake; but you— you
have not turned Huguenot, have you?"
"Not yet," I smiled; "and is lime, de
Belin in Paris?"
"Diable!" and he made a wry face.
"Come up to my den, and I'll tell you
everything. Vallon, you grinning apo,
fetch a flask of our old Chambertin; I
will show M. le Chevalier up myself."
And linking me by the arm he led me
up the stairway, and along a noble coi
ridor hung on each side with the richest
tapestry, until we reached a carved door
that opened into the rooms in the tur
ret.
"Here we are," Belin said, as we en
tered. "I find that when madame is
away these room's are enough for me.
Tiens! How a woman's presence can fill
a house. Sit down there! And here
comes Vallon. Set the wine down there.
Vallon, and leave us."
He poured out a full measure for me.
then one for himself, and stretched
himself out in an armchair, facing
me. I always liked the man, with his
gay cynicism— if I may use the phrase
—his kind heart and his reckless life;
and I knew enough to tell that if
Mme. la Comtesse had been a little
more forbearing she might have mouiu
ed her husband as she willed.
"Belin," I said,"l am so old a friend,
I know you will forgive me for ask
ing why, if you miss madame's pres
ence you do not have her here?"
"O, she has got one of her fits and
has cone to grow pears at Belin. It
was "iall through that fool Vallon."
"Vallon!"
"Yes. Bassompierre, de Vitry, my
self and one or two others had ar
ranged a little supper with cards to
follow at Mores. You don't know
More's, but I'll take you there. Wei!,
to continue: I had gone through
about three weeks of my own fireside
before this arrangement was made-,
and longed to stretch my legs a little.
To tell Sophia would only cause a dis
cussion. I pleaded urgent business
over my steward's accounts, and giv
ing orders that I was not to be disturb
ed under any circumstances, came here
to my study, a duplicate key to the
door 6f which Sophia keeps. I put Val
lon in that chair there before the writ
ing table, after having made him
throw on my robe de chambre, an<!
gave him instructions to wave his hand
in token that he was not .to be dis
turbed if Mme. la Comtesse came
in and, after thoroughly drilling the
rascal, vanished by the private stair;
the entrance to that is just behind my
wife's portrait there."
"And then?"
"Well, we had as pleasant an even
ing as might be expected. I won 500
pistoles and came home straight to my
study, and on entering ii imagine my
feelings on seeing Sophie there — and
you can guess the rest."
"Poor devil," I laughed, "so your lit
tle plan failed utterly."
"Vallon failed utterly. It appears
that Sophie came up about 10, and be
ing waved off went away. She re
turned, however, about an hour later
to find M. Vallon, who had got tired
of his position, asleep with his mouth
open in the chair in which you are sit
ting. She refused to believe it was on
ly a card party— though I said I would
call the marshal and de Vitry to wit
ness — burst into tears, and in fine, my
friend, I had a bad quarter of an
hour, and Sophie has gone off to Be
lin."
"And the postoles?" I asked slily.
He looked at me and we both laughed.
"She took them," he answered.
"Belin," I said after a moment,
"will you ever change?"
"Ventre St. Gris! As the king swears.
"Why should I? After all Sophie will
come round again. I really am very
happy. I have many things to be
thankful for. I can always help a
friend — "
"I know that," I interrupted, "and I
want your help."
"How much is it? Or is it a sec
ond?"
"Neither," thanks. Though in either
case I would come to you without hes
itation. The fact is"— and I explained
to him my difficulty in regard to pro
viding for Marie, without, however, go
ing into other matters, or giving him
any account of my troubles.
When I ended, Belin said: "What
you want, then, is a trustworthy fel
low."
"At least that is what Jacques wants.
I can get on well enough."
"Morbleu! It is more than I could,
but, as it happens, I have the very
thing for you. Pull that bell rope be
hind you, will you, and oblige a lazy
man."
I did so, and in a minute or so Val
lon appeared, wiping his mouth sus
piciously with the back of his hand.
"Vallon," said De Belin, "does Ra
vaillac continue to work satisfactori
ly?"
"As ever, monsieur le comte."
"Well, I am going to lend him to the
chevalier, who has need of his serv
ices."
"Monsieur."
"Send him up here, and Bisson, too."
Vallon bowed and vanished as I said:
"I do not know how to thank you,
Belin."
"Pouf ! A mere bagatelle. I thought
we were going to have a little amuse
ment in the gardens of the Tuileries. I
know of a perfect spot for a meeting,
ca! ca!" and he lunged twice in quarie
at an imaginary adversary. As he came
back from the second thrust he said.
"By the way, I must tell you— but here
they are," and Ravaillac came in, fol
lowed by Jacques, Vallon bringing up
the rear.
As they entered I recognized the man
who was with Jacques and Vallon on
the Malaquais, and Belin, turning to
Jacques, said quietly: "Bisson. I am
going to lend Ravaillac here to your
master, to take your place whilst you
go away to Ezy. I pledge you my
word that he is a good sword."
"True enough, M. le Comte. We were
amusing ourselves with a pass or two
below, and he touched me twice to my
one, and as your lordship answers for
him, I am content."
"That is well, most excellent Bisson!
Ravaillac, you understand? Here is
the Chevalier d'Auriac, your new mas
ter, who will remain such until he
sends you back to me."
Ravaillac bowed without reply. He
was quite young, barely twenty, and
very tall and thin; yet there was great
breadth of shoulder, and I noticed that
he had the framework of a powerful
man; his appearance was much beyond
that of his class; but there was a sullen
ferocity in his pale face^-the eyes were
set too close together, and the mouth
too large and straightly cut to pleasa
me. Nevertheless, I was practically
bound to accept Belin's recommenda
tion, and, after a few orders were giv-
ll__M__-
4— Mrs. McFlint (wielding the broom)— There now, let me ever ketch you
again pullin' up my cabbage he ads.
en, the men were dismissed.
"What was I about to say before
these men came in?" asked Belin.
"I'm afraid I cannot help."
"Of course not — O, yes! I recollect. I
was about to teH you how I got Ra
vaillac's service. ;I lay you five crowns
to a tester you would never guess."
"You have already told me with your
wager. You must have won him."
"Exactly. You've kit it, and it was
in this way. About three months ago
I was returning to Paris, attended but
by Vallon, and with only a small sum
with me. At an inn at Neuilly. I me*,
an acquaintance,: a Baron d'Ayen, on : *
of the last of the mignons and a con
firmed gambler."
"I know him,"-; I said, my heart be
ginning to beat faster at the very
thought of d'Ayen. i
"Then it makes the- story more inter
esting. We dined together, and then
had a turn at the dice, with the result
that d'Ayen won every ecu that I
had."
"It would be a pity to stop now, - e=
said, as I rose declaring myself broken.
"Suppose we play for your .«-r=e,
comte?"
"No, thanks," I replied; "luck is
against me, and I have no mind to foot
it to my hotel. But I'll tell you what,
I have rather taken a fancy to your
♦ IN ♦
mm b a. /SEPTEMBER
(g^A. A. W H ¥ "tfltOlltll.
Two-M;nute Electric Car Service from All Parts of St. Paul. Fare 5 Cents.
For Evening Entertainment.
MONDAY, LABOR DAY.
« . £S*l» Stupendous Parade of the Thousands of Laboring Men.
O6Dli 0111. Evening— Wouderful Venetian Water Carnival at Lake Como— Fire Works —
Music and Bicycle Parade.
TUESDAY, GIGANTIC CIVIC AND INDUSTRIAL PARADE.
Qanf 7th Illuminated Floats— Beautiful Electric Effects— lo,ooo Men— l.ooo Horses—
©ep*. r\n m 2QQ Float&
WEDNESDAY, FIRST NIGHT OF FIRE!!!
C * O+l* The Grandest Mimic Naval Battle e\er seen on any river in the United States
OCDIa OlMi — Enormous Towers and Forts on an Island will be Attacked by Gun
boats, Fire Barges and 5,000 Uniformed Soldiers.
THURSDAY, SECOND NIGHT OF FIRE!!!!
Gpm* Qth Capture of the Forts — Terrible Bombardment — Burning of Gunboats — Ex
■ plosion of 10 Magazines — Ending with a Grand Conflagration.
Friday, "EXCITING RUN OF THE ENTIRE FIRE DEPT.
r* * aaL NOT a Parade. Fancy Drills by St. Paul's Famous Co. D, N. G. S. M.—
&6Dta I Oil! ■ Acrobats, Jugglers, Clog Dancers, Tight-Rope Walkers, Cake Walks,
" Freaks, Dancing— a whole Circus— FßEE.
SATURDAY GRAND DISPLAY AND ILLUMINATION
By all Retail Stores— "Shopping Night"— Reception and Music in "Exhi-
SCpta I 1 tlla bition Hall" of Northwestern Manufacturers' Union, Corner
Seventh and Wabasha Streets.
NOTE: St. Paul Does Not Ask You to Pay. ALL FREE
man, since I once saw him handle a
rapier. I'll lay Vallon against him;
what do you call him?"
"Ravaillac. He is of Angouleme and
has been a Flagellant. Will he suit
you?"
"I shall have to find that out. Do
you accept the stakes?"
"Mon ami, I would play for my soul
in this cursed inn."
"Very well, then, throw."
The upshot of it was that I won, and
from that moment the blind goddess
smiled on mo, and after another hour's
play I left d'Ayen with nothing but
the clothes he stood in. What he re
gretted most was the loss of his valise,
in which lay some cosmetlques he
valued beyond price; he got them from
Coiffier. I earned his undying friend
ship by giving him biek his valise,
lent him his horse, wnich I ha I won,
and came off with fifty pistoles and a
new man. Of course, yoa knovz that
d'Ayen has fallen on his i'eet?"
"I do not."
"I'll tell you. Where fee devil have
you been burying yourself all these
months? You must know that the
king is looking forward for another
Liancourt for a lady whom he destines
for a very high place, and d'Ayen is to
be the happy man. It is an honor he
fully appreciates and he has been kind
enough to ask me to stand as one of
his sponsors at the wedding, which, by
the king's orders, comes off in a fort
night."
"And you have promised?"
"Yes, it was a little amusement.
They say, however, that madame is
furious, and that her temper is worse
than that of Mile d'Entragues, who,
by the way, literally flung herself at
the king without avail. Her time will
come soon enough, no doubt — but, good
gracious, man! What is the matter?
You are white as a sheet."
"It is nothing, Belin— Yes it is
more than I can bear. Belin, old
friend, is there nothing that can save
this lady?"
He looked at me and whistled low to
himself. "Sets the wind that way? I
did not know you had even heard of
the lily of Bidache. Are you hard hit
d'Auriac?" And he rose from his seat
and put a kind hand on my shoulders.
I jumped up furiously. "Belin, i
tell you I will stop this infamy if I
die for it. I swear before God that I
will kill that man, king though he be,
like a mad dog — "
"Be still," he said. "What bee has
stung you? You and I, d'Auriac, come
of houses too old to play the assassin.
Croix Dieu, man! Will you sully your
shield with murder? There, drink
that wine and sit down again. That's
right. You do not know what you say.
I have fought against the king, and I
serve him now, and I tell you, d'Au
riac, he is the greatest of Frenchmen.
And there is yet hope — remember, a
fortnight is a fortnight."
I ground my teeth in silent agony.
"Wait a moment," he continued, "a
chamberlain of the court knows most
of its secrets, and I can tell you that it
is not such plain sailing as you think
for d'Ayen. The death of that unhap
py Gabrielle has affected the king
much. He is but now beginning to re
cover, and Biron, who was hurrying to
his government of Burgundy, has been
ordered to remain in close attendance
on the king.
"Whether Biron knew of the king's
intentions or not, I do not know; but
he has strongly urged the suit of one
of his gentlemen for the hand of mad-,
ame — it is that croque-mort de Go
meron, with all his faults a stout sol
dier. It is said that the marshal has
even pressed de Gomeron's suit with
madarne, and that, rather than marry
d'Ayen, and clinging to any chance
for escape, she has agreed to fall in
with his "views. This I heard from the
Vidame, and the Chevalier de Lafin—
good enough authority."
"One alternative is as bad as the
other."
"There is no satisfying some people.
Why, man, don't you see it would be
the best thing in the world for you if
it was settled in favor or our friend
from the Camargue."
"That low born scoundrel?"
"Mon ami, we don't know anything
about that. Give the devil his clue; he
is a better man than d'Ayen. I know
there is ill blood between you, and
wonder that some has not been spilt
before now."
"There will be, by God! before this
is ended."
"Tenez! Let but the king agree to
de Gomeron's suit — and he is hard
pressed, I tell you, for Sully even is
on Biron's side in this matter, and
after that — "
"What?"
"Henry's mind will have turned an
other way. There are many who
would like to play queen, and few like
Mesdames de Guerchville and Bid
ache."
"But in any case, Belin, I lose the
game."
"You have become very clever in
your retreat, my friend. You win your
game if de Gomeron is accepted and
then—"
"And then, my wise adviser?"
"She need not marry the Camargue.
You can run him through under the
limes in the Tuileries — wed madame.
and grow cabbages at Aunac ever
after. Pouf! The matter is simple!"
Miserable as I was I fairly laughed
out at Belln's plot. Nevertheless, the
hcpefulntss of the man, his chei-ry
tone and happy spirit had their effect
upon me, and if it turned out that the
king was wavering there was more
than a straw of hope floating down,
stream to me. My courage grew alsc
when I put together Sully's words with j
Belin's news that Biron was detained .
by the side of the king. It surely :
meant that this was done to prevent
the marshal doing mischief elsewhere.
If so, I was nevertheless on the horns \
of a dilemma, for by telling of the plot j
I would, if my story were believed, j
make matters hopeless, and advance
d'Ayen's cause to the misery of the
woman I loved.
On the other hand, by keeping silent •
I was in an equally hard case. My
pledge to Sully prevented me from
taking Belin fully into my confidence,
and hardly knowing what I was do
ing I poured myself out another full
goblet of the Chambertin, and drained
it at a draft.
"Excellent," said Belin, "there is
nothing like Burgundy to steady the
mind; in another moment you will be j
yourself again and think as I do in j
this matter. Courage, man! Pick your '
heart up. A fortnight is a devil of a
long time, and — "
"Monsieur le Baron d'Ayen," and i
Vallon threw open the door, and at its j
entrance stood the cold-blooded in- !
strument of the king. He looked old- !
er and more shriveled than ever, but
the paint was bright upon his cheeks,
his satin surcoat and puffed breeches
were fresh from the tailors, and hfs
hat, which he carried in his left hand,
was plumed with three long, crimson,
marabout feathers, held in a jeweled
clasp.
"My dear de Belin," he paid, bowing
low, "I trust my visit is not inoppor
tune? I had no idea you were en
gaged."
"Never more welcome, baron. I think
monsieur le chevalier is known ti you —
sit down and help yourself to the
Chambertin."
D'Ayen bowed slightly to me; but I
took no notice and rose to depart,
"Do not retire on my account, mon
sieur le chevalier," said d'Ayen in his
mocking voice. "I come to give news
to my friend here, which will doubtless
interest you. The fact is his majesty
insists on my marriage taking place
a? soon as possible, ami has given in
structions for the chapel in the Louvre
to be prepared for the ceremony. Y<>u
still hold good to your promise of bu
ing one of my s fle Belin?"
"If the wedding comes oft — certain
ly."
"Ha! ha! If it cornea oft! T would ask
you, too, monsieur," and he turned to
me, ">>ut I know you have presstug
business elsewhere."
"Whatevel Tiy business may bo,
monsieur, theit i 3 ";:W'ir^ I must
attend to first, and [ ftu t the
pleasure of your company to di.
it."
"Ah!" he said, stroking the marabout
feathers in his hat. "that differ en
opinion we hti<l about tl di uf
Bldache — eh? I e •■• from youi face it
so is. I had almost forgotten it."
"Monsieur's memory is convenient."
He bowed with a grin, "I am old;
but shall take care not to forget this
time — "
"Come, gentlemen," and Belin inter
posed, "the day is too young to begin
to quarrel, and if this must come to a
meeting allow your seconds to arrange
the time and place. One moment, bar
on," and taking me by the arm he
led me to the door.
"Malheureux!" he whispered, "will
you upset the kettle! See me tomor
row, and adieu!" He pressed my hand;
and I went out preceded by Vallon,
who must have caught Belin's words,
but whose face was as impassive as
stone.
(To be continued.)
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