III
As for de Landas, he probably spent that evening some of the happiest hours which he had experienced for some time. It seemed indeed as if Fate, having buffeted him about so unmercifully these past few weeks, was determined to compensate him for everything that he had suffered.
When he received Monseigneur's letter, he was still fresh from his stormy interview with Jacqueline, still fresh from the discovery which he had made of at any rate a part of his rival's secret. As to what use he would make of this discovery, he had not yet made up his mind: his dark, vengeful soul was for the nonce consumed with rage at thought of seeing Jacqueline happy in the love of the man whom he so cordially hated. In the ordinary course of events, he would have been perfectly content to see her married—for political reasons, lovelessly or even unhappily—to any man who was influential enough to win her at the hands of her ambitious guardian. But to think of her bestowing her love and her kisses on another was wont to drive de Landas to the verge of mania. He did not love Jacqueline de Broyart. He had told her so, and he knew that her fortune would never be his. But he had always desired her, and did so still; and such are the tortuous ways of a depraved heart, that he would have been content to lose her only if he knew that she would be unhappy.
Now, suddenly, Fate had changed everything. Instead of impotent rage and futile scheming, Monseigneur's orders had placed in his hands the very weapon which he needed to consummate that revenge of which he dreamed.
'See to it, My dear de Landas,' Monseigneur had written, 'that for the next four and twenty Hours a full Company of the Town garrison is afoot, and that no one leave this City on any pretext whatsoever. I have prepared a special pageant for the People—a day of Festivity, wherein I will make a joyful Announcement to them from the Balcony of the Town Hall. This announcement has a direct bearing not only on the Future of our sorely-stricken Province, but also on that of her fairest Daughter. Both these great Issues are inextricably bound together, and to-morrow will see them ratified before our assembled people. So, see to it, My dear de Landas, that the Garrison under your Command do keep Order in the Town, so that there should be no disturbance likely to mar the solemnity of the occasion. There are always Malcontents in every Community and dissentients to every measure of public good. But I know that You at least have always been at one with Me in earnest desire to see our beloved country placed under the protection of our mighty neighbour, and that You will therefore rejoice with Me that that desire will at last be fulfilled. Because of Your unswerving loyalty to me and to Our cause, You shall be the first to know that the mysterious stranger whom We have so long harboured within Our gates and who chose to be known to Us all as the Prince de Froidmont, is none other than Monsieur duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, Brother of His Majesty the King of France, who came to Cambray for the express purpose of wooing Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, Our Ward, to be his Wife. That he has succeeded in winning her promise is the announcement which I desire to make to our People to-morrow. I also will give them the assurance that, in consequence of this alliance with the royal House of Valois, We may reckon on the full might and support of France to deliver Us from Our enemies.'
De Landas crushed the welcome letter in his hand in the excess of his joy. He could have screamed aloud with unholy rapture.
'There is a fraud here, of course. Monseigneur has been hoodwinked. The Prince de Froidmont is not Duc d'Anjou!' he cried exultantly. 'This much I know. And now, friend Beelzebub and all your myrmidons, grant me aid, so that I may unmask that miscreant in a truly dramatic manner! Something must and shall be done, to turn that fateful hour to-morrow into one of triumph for me, and of humiliation for the woman who has dared to scorn my love. As for the man who has filched her from me, this same hour will be one which shall cover him with such boundless infamy, that for Jacqueline the very memory of his kisses will for ever remain an agony of shame.'
He sent a hasty summons to his intimates—to Maarege, de Borel, du Prêt and the whole of the gang of hot-headed malcontents, and just like in the Archiepiscopal Palace, so in the lodgings occupied by Messire de Landas, a Council of War was held which lasted late into the night.