V
What was said after this is not much to the point. Enough that de Montigny yielded—very reluctantly, very slowly, be it admitted—but still, he did yield, and Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, was triumphant because she had got her way and because she would be allowed now to weave one of those subtle and sentimental plots which was as the breath of life to her inventive brain. She was also triumphant because she felt that nothing now stood in the way of the ambitious plans which she had framed for her favourite brother. She was triumphant because she felt the romance which she had concocted for his benefit would end in substantial gain for him—a richly-dowered wife and a sovereignty as rich as a crown. Then, at last, when she had won Messire de Montigny over absolutely and completely with her ready wit and her glib tongue, she extended a gracious hand to the somewhat shamefaced Fleming. 'Ah, Messire!' she said. 'You little realize how much you have done for your country this day!'
'I certainly have sacrificed my sanity and my better judgment,' he said gruffly. But he did bend the knee, and kissed the delicately-perfumed hand.
'And Madame Jacqueline will be at Cambray?' she asked.
'She is at Cambray now,' he replied.
'Then Monsieur had best repair thither right away. You yourself will be there, Messire?'
'Not I, alas, Madame!' he replied. 'After I have seen my brother and d'Inchy and obtained their consent to this wild-cat scheme, I join the army of the Prince of Orange at Utrecht.'
'But you'll see that my brother has a safe conduct and is sure of a welcome from Monseigneur d'Inchy?'
'Oh! d'Inchy will consent and so will my brother. They will make Monseigneur quite welcome,' rejoined de Montigny with a sigh. 'All of us would do much, Madame, in order to bring about this alliance, on which we have set our hearts.'
He was as wax now in the hands of this fascinating intriguer. In his heart of hearts he knew that sober reflection would come anon; he knew that it would take much persuasion ere his brother, and the other sober-minded Flemings who ruled the destinies of a great nation and of a rich heiress, would finally consent to these wild and romantic plans which had found their origin in an imaginative woman's brain; he knew that, mayhap, when he returned to Cambray, he would have to argue in his turn as the Queen of Navarre had argued with him. But in the meanwhile, now that he had given in, he was man enough and gentleman enough to fulfil his share of the bargain loyally and completely.
'That's brave!' exclaimed Marguerite. 'And I entreat you, lose no time. Monsieur could start for Cambray this night.'
'Would Monseigneur go alone?' queried de Montigny.
'No, no,' broke in the Duke fretfully. 'I could not go unattended. Think on it, Messire! A prince of the house of France!'
'Monseigneur would not, I presume, enter Cambray incognito with a retinue of men-at-arms,' retorted the other with a grim smile.
'No! not a retinue,' he rejoined unperturbed. 'I'll have Gilles with me and a serving-man; that is all.'
'Gilles?'
'Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont,' interposed Marguerite, as with a graceful gesture of the hand she indicated Gilles, who still stood silent and impassive in the corner of the room. 'This gallant gentleman is devoted to Monsieur's service and accompanies him wherever he goes.'
De Montigny's sharp, scrutinizing glance swept approvingly over Gilles de Crohin's martial figure.
'Very well then, so be it,' he said. 'I will give a safe conduct to Monseigneur under any name he will choose to assume, and one to Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, who will travel as his equerry. Is that what Madame la Reyne desires?'
'It is! It is!' cried Marguerite joyfully. 'Ah!' she added as she directed a reproachful glance on her brother, 'dilatoriness is not a part of your method, Messire de Montigny!'
'Mon Dieu, my good Margot!' quoth Monsieur tartly. 'You do not give Messire sufficient time to breathe.'
'Who wants to breathe,' she retorted gaily, 'when the destinies of kingdoms are at stake? The safe conducts, Messire! The safe conducts, I entreat! Why not sign them here and now?'
She jumped up from her chair, eager, young, full of vitality. In a moment, with her own dainty hands, she had placed ink-horn, sand, a quill, a sheet of paper upon the table.
'The safe conduct, Messire!' she reiterated excitedly. 'I vow that I'll don male attire and start for Cambray with my brother this night!'
And she would have done it, too, had not prudence dictated otherwise. Her fine, clever face, however, was well known in this part of Belgium. She had been at Cambray but a few weeks ago, moving heaven and earth and stirring up those heavy Flemings to activity on behalf of her brother. But she would have loved to be of that adventurous party. The conception of it had been born in her brain; it was her thing, her creation, her child, and she fretted at the thought that her brother's indolence, his shiftlessness and indecision might even yet jeopardize these glorious projects which she had formed.
'Sainte Vierge and chorus of angels, grant me patience!' she murmured as she watched, frowning and fretful, the deliberate movements of M. de Montigny. The Duc d'Anjou chortled quietly to himself. He loved to see his impetuous sister fuming over the dilatoriness of another, and now he gave a low cackle of delight when the Fleming first drew a chair slowly to the table, then sat down and settled himself to write. He next took up the quill pen, examined it, tested it on his thumb-nail, turned the sheet of paper over and over. Obviously he was not very much used to rapid caligraphy, and Marguerite's temper was oozing out of her very finger-tips as she watched that quill pen travelling with ponderous slowness along the paper.
'In what name shall I make out the safe-conduct?' he asked presently.
'Oh, ye gods!' exclaimed Marguerite impatiently. 'Any name, Messire—or leave the name in blank——'
'I cannot do that,' rejoined de Montigny deliberately. 'M. d'Inchy, who is governor of the city and of the province, would not wish it. And since Monseigneur desires to enter Cambray incognito——'
'Any name will do,' she retorted.
'Still, I must have one——'
'Then, in God's name, make out the safe-conduct in the name of Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, travelling with his equerry Messire Gilles de Crohin and with his serving-man. Will that satisfy Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy?'
De Montigny thought the matter over for a moment or two ere he replied, wholly unperturbed, 'I think so.'
And thus did the document stand. A permit to enter the City of Cambray was granted to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, to his equerry Messire Gilles de Crohin and to his serving-man, by Edmond, Sire de Montigny, acting on behalf of Roger, Baron d'Inchy, governor of the province of Cambrésis, and safe conduct was assured them on their way thither.[[1]]
[[1]] This document which Messire de Montigny made out and signed on that memorable occasion is still preserved among the archives of the City of Cambray. At any rate, it was still extant in the spring of 1914, when the writer of this veracious chronicle was granted a sight of it. Since then the hordes of the modern Huns have swept over the fair lands of Belgium and France. They may have destroyed these archives as they did so much of what had historical and romantic interest.
'Well! you have your wish, my dear sister,' was the Duc d'Anjou's sole comment as he saw the look of impatience on Marguerite's fair face give place to one of triumph and of joy.