The Chevalier d'Auriac

by S. Levett Yeats

CHAPTER XII

[MONSIEUR RAVAILLAC DOES NOT SUIT]

In the excitement attendant in my scuffle with d'Ayen and the subsequent events, ending in my escape from the clutches of the watch, I had for the moment clean forgot Ravaillac's fit of frenzy. I slept profoundly, and towards morning was half awakened by an uneasy feeling that there was someone in the room. This passed away; but a short time after I awoke with a start, and looking around saw Ravaillac bending over some of my things which were lying in a corner of the room. As I looked at him the full recollection of his strange behaviour came back to me, and, a slight movement on my part attracting his attention, he bade me a civil good-morning. He made no mention, however, of his illness, nor did he excuse himself in any way, but set about his duties in a quiet, cat-like manner.

Whilst he moved softly about, I began to piece together the noise of the stumble I had heard outside my door when about to set out with Palin, with Madame Pantin's warning and the scene in the loft. It struck me that his seizure might after all be a blind, and I determined to question the man, and, by watching the play of his features and noting his manner of reply, try and discover if there was anything to show that my idea was correct.

Pretending, therefore, to be unaware of what had passed, I asked:

'How was it you were not in to receive me last night, Ravaillac?'

There was a quick up-and-down movement of the long grey eyes, and he answered:

'I was ill, monsieur; I trust Monsieur le Chevalier is not hurt?'

'Hurt! Why should I be?'

'Monsieur will pardon me, but I thought it possible.'

'How so?'

'Monsieur's clothes were dripping wet when I first came in, and his rapier stained full six inches from the point when I drew it out of its sheath to clean it this morning. It looked like an arm-thrust, and I thought——'

'Never mind what you thought. I had a slight affair last night, but was not hurt.' It was clear to me that he was trying to carry the war into my country, as it were, by counter-questions to mine. I therefore cut him short, and added:

'Your illness came and went very suddenly. Are you often taken that way?'

'Then Monsieur knows——'

'A great many things, perhaps; but kindly answer my question.'

It may have been fancy or not; but it seemed to me that, as once before, I saw the wraith of a smile flit stealthily along his thin lips. He was standing in front of me, holding my rapier, and his eyes were bent down on the polished steel hilt as I spoke.

At first he made no answer, and I repeated my question. This time he looked me full in the face, and the whole expression of the man changed—his cheeks paled, his eyes dilated, his voice took a shrill pitch.

'I cannot tell, monsieur. It comes and goes like the wind. There is a Fear that falls on me—a Fear and something, I know not what, beside; but all before my eyes is red—red as if it rained blood—and then a myriad of devils are whispering in my ears, and there is no safety for me but the cross and prayer. It has passed now—God be thanked! Will Monsieur not take his sword?'

His voice dropped again to its low, soft note as he ended, and handed me my rapier. I buckled it on, thinking to myself, 'My friend, you are either a lunatic at large or a finished actor. In either case you won't do for me.' I said no more, however, but when he gave me my hat he asked:

'Will Monsieur require me in attendance?'

'Yes. I go to the Hôtel de Belin, and I trust this will be the last of your attacks whilst you are with me. The Compte told me you had been a Flagellant, but had recovered.'

'I have been well for a long time, monsieur,' he answered, taking my humour—'I will try and get ill no more.'

'I am glad of that. Saddle Couronne. I go out at once—you can follow on foot.'

'Monsieur.'

The next moment he was gone, and I heard him running down the stairs. It would take a few minutes to get Couronne ready, but I followed him down at once, as I had an inquiry to make from Madame Pantin. I heard someone moving below in the kitchen, and, thinking it was dame Annette, called down the winding stair:

'Madame—Madame Pantin!'

'Madame is out; but is there anything I can do for Monsieur?' And the notary appeared below, a dim outline, clad in his dressing-gown, with a woollen cap on his head.

I went down to him and asked:

'Pantin, do you know if Ravaillac was out last night?'

'I would have told Monsieur there and then when he came in from his swim in the Seine. No, for I watched and saw him sleeping in the loft.'

'Are you sure?'

'As I am of being here.'

'Thanks! Madame is out early?'

'She has gone to the Rue Varenne; but, monsieur, be careful of that Ravaillac.'

I nodded my head, and then, raising my voice: 'I dine at the Two Ecus as usual—good day!'

'Good day, monsieur!'

Couronne was at the door, Ravaillac at her head, and, mounting, I went at a walking pace towards the Pont au Change, my servant a yard or so behind. It was my intention to see de Belin, to ask him to find out if I was in any danger owing to last night's folly or misadventure—call it what you will—and to beg his advice on the course I was to pursue.

I had been recognised by d'Ayen. My name was known to those with him, and any trouble with the Hôtel de Ville meant hopeless disaster. I had almost made up my mind to conceal myself somewhere until the day of flight; but, before taking any action, thought it advisable to consult my friend, and to return Ravaillac to his service.

On my way to the Rue de Bourdonnais, however, I began to turn the matter of Ravaillac over again in my mind, and found myself between the hedge and the ditch. If I got rid of him, the man, if he was a spy, could watch me in secret; if I kept him with me, the same thing happened. After all, whilst with me he had greater opportunities, and the less of the two evils was to be rid of him—yes, it would be better so.

Imagine my disappointment when reaching his hotel to find that Belin was out! Vallon begged me to wait, explaining that his master had been absent for so long a time that his return would be but a matter of minutes. He had supped out the night before with de Vitry, the Captain of the Scots Guards, and M. le Grand, had come back late, and gone forth very early in the morning, and it was now full time he was back.

I determined therefore to wait, though every moment was of importance to me, and, after a half-hour of patience in an easy chair, rose and walked towards the window, to while away the time by watching what was going on below. One of the heavy brocade curtains was half drawn, and without thinking of it I came up towards that side, and looked out from behind its cover. It struck me as strange that my horse was without the gate, instead of being within the courtyard, and Ravaillac, with the reins thrown over his shoulder, was engaged in converse with a cavalier whose back was turned to me, and whose head was entirely concealed by his broad-brimmed hat and long plumes.

But the tall, straight figure, with its stretch of shoulder, could not be mistaken. It was de Gomeron to a certainty, and my doubts on the point were soon at rest. Keeping as far as possible within the shadow of the curtain, I watched them for full five minutes whilst they conversed together earnestly, and then something changed hands between them. Finally, the cavalier left Ravaillac with a nod to his salute, and crossed over to the other side of the road, where a mounted lackey was holding his horse. As he gained the saddle, he turned his face towards me for an instant. There was no shadow of doubt left. It was de Gomeron, and it was clear that there was more between the free-lance and Ravaillac than there should be, and also I was convinced, I know not how, that what had passed between them touched me, and was not for my good. What object the man had to play traitor I cannot say; but I do know that there are some natures to whom double dealing is as their skin, and whom nothing can turn from falsehood and chicane.

Be this as it may, I knew at any rate the grass where one viper lay, and made up my mind to blunt his fangs without any further delay. I gave de Belin another half-hour, and then, calling Vallon, left a message with him, begging my friend to see me at my lodging on a matter of the utmost moment. As soon as I was in the saddle, I bent forwards, and, looking Ravaillac full in the face, said: 'My friend, you have too many acquaintances for my service; I return you from this moment to Monsieur le Compte.'

'I do not understand, monsieur,' he began to stammer; but I cut him short.

'I spoke clearly enough. I do not require your services further. You are discharged. Take this,' and flinging him a couple of gold pieces, which the scoundrel swooped at like a hawk, I turned the mare's head and trotted off.

I made a short cut down a side street, and, in so doing, had an opportunity of taking a last look at my man. He was standing talking to Vallon, and moving his hands in my direction.

'Reeling out lies by the dozen,' I muttered to myself. 'If I mistake not, there will be another place lost to you by sundown.'

I let myself in by the stable entrance, and, after attending to Couronne, entered the house. There was apparently not a soul within. I sought the lower apartments in the hope of finding either the notary or his wife, to explain to them my action in regard to Ravaillac; but neither of them was visible. There was no answer to my call. There could not be a soul in the house.

I determined, therefore, to go up to my room and await de Belin's coming, and on my opening the door of my sitting-room saw, to my surprise, a man apparently dozing in my armchair. The noise of my entrance awoke him. He jumped up, and I recognised my friend.

'Belin! what good wind has blown you here? But how did you come in? There is no one in the house?'

'There was when I came in, my friend. Do you know'—and he looked me in the face—'You have made a mess of things.'

'You know already! Belin, I have just been to see you about it. The whole affair was forced on me.'

'Partly. It was lucky I was there, and sober enough to think of cutting the cord of the lamp. You vanished, as I thought you would, and I have been attending to your affairs since then; any other man would have been laid by the heels ere this, but the stars fought for you.'

'Any other man who had not a friend like you, Lisois. But do you really mean that I am safe from arrest?'

'I think so, from any count under the Edict of Blois; but I had a devil of a dance. First of all, the catchpoles insisted upon turning their attentions towards me, and I only got off on the testimony of M. le Baron, who after all is but scratched, though spoiling for revenge. Then I rushed off to de Villeroi; but he, full of his new office as governor of the Hôtel, hummed and hawed—would hear of nothing, he said, until you were provided with a lodging in Fort l'Eveque, and talked big of the law and its course. However, I had an argument to persuade him: little birds twitter odd things into the ears of a chamberlain, sometimes, and he agreed to hold over the matter for a few hours until I had seen the King.'

'The King!'

'Why not, mon ami? With the first streak of light I went to see a friend who shall be nameless, but is a power in the land. An hour later I was at the Louvre and at his Majesty's bedside. Henry was in high good humour. He had won nine thousand crowns last night from the invincible Portuguese, de Pimental. Almost as great a victory as Arques, he said. I related the whole of the circumstances without mentioning your name, and, pledging my word that d'Ayen would be about by this afternoon, begged for a pardon.'

'But the King of course asked for my name.'

'Of course he did, and, in reply, I said I would bring you in person to the Louvre this afternoon: then by good chance Sully himself came in. His lands of Muret march with mine, and Monseigneur is my very good friend. The King began to put him the case, to which Sully listened without a movement, except an occasional glance at a roll of documents in his hand, and when Henry finished said, with a smile—

"'A trifle, sire, that may well be left to M. de Villeroi; perhaps, however, sire, your Majesty might agree to de Belin's petition. There is a spice of mystery about it, which even interests me. I have, however, brought these papers on the Gabelle."

"'Diable! Salty, but hardly a relish—let it be as you wish, Belin; and now for my salt without any soup." I took the hint, as may be imagined, and went straight back to Villeroi, and the matter being now in the hands of the King, he will of course take no action.'

'You have been goodness itself.'

'My dear fellow, let that rest! All that you have to do now is to come with me this afternoon, put your case to the King, and I lay a hundred crowns to a tester you hear no more—of the little affair of last night.'

As he said this, looking me full in the face, with a peculiar stress on the last words of his speech, a sudden light came upon me. Sully's lands marched with those of de Belin. They were friends. Sully did not, for reasons of his own, wish it known that he took an interest in my mission, and the rest was easy to guess.

'Pardieu! That little thrust through the sword arm of M. le Baron is, after all, not so unlucky—eh! Belin? At least, for our very good lord of Muret and Villebon.'

But Lisois only laughed in reply, as he said: 'Add a cat falling on its feet from a church steeple to your scutcheon, d'Auriac. Shall I get Rouge Croix to prick the new coat of arms?'

'As you will; you have made my heart, which was heavy as lead, light once more—I feel now that I am not playing a hopeless game.'

'The proper feeling to have, whatever the hazard be. With all your northern blood, d'Auriac, you should not have so many nerves.'

'You forget my mother was of the south.'

'True, of the Foix Candale. You will die a Huguenot. But I must be going. Meet me at the Rue de Bourdonnais at one, exactly, and I will take you to the Louvre, and now good-bye!' He rose and gave me his hand.

'But, surely, there is no need for you to go now? Dine with me at my ordinary; I have much to tell you.'

Tap! tap! tap! It was dame Annette's little knock at my door, and I knew it was something of import that had brought her to my room.

'One moment, Belin!' and, opening the door, I saw Madame Pantin standing there in breathless agitation.

'What is it, madame? Come in, and speak freely; there is only my friend the Compte de Belin here.'

'It is nothing, monsieur,' she said loudly, and then, dropping her voice to a whisper, 'Ravaillac was out last night. Pantin was deceived. I have come up to tell you so at once: be rid of him. I am asked to tell you this by a friend.'

'A hundred thanks! I have parted with him, and he will not trouble us more. But who is this friend who takes so great an interest in me?'

'You have company, monsieur,' she answered, with a bobbing courtesy, 'I will not intrude longer.' And, without another word, she turned and went away.

When I looked back, Belin was smoothing the plumes in his hat and laughing. 'I heard every word, d'Auriac. So Ravaillac is a mouchard, is he? And you have sent him back to me.'

'I have,' I answered, and then I told my friend what had happened.

His face was grave enough when I ended.

'So that explains one thing,' he muttered to himself, tapping the point of his boot with the end of his sheathed rapier, and then, looking up, said slowly, 'You were right, and he shall sleep in Fort l'Eveque to-night. No, I cannot stay. Be punctual—and see here.' He came close up to me, and rested his hand on my shoulder.

'Though you do not know it, your game forms part of a bigger game played for higher stakes. There are those who love France, and would have no more madness such as that over poor Gabrielle—we are helping you with heart and soul. Be punctual—and adieu. No, I can go out by myself; do not trouble to come down.'

He was gone, and I paced up and down for a quarter of an hour, feeling like a pawn that some unseen hand was moving hither and thither on the chessboard of intrigue. And then I went to my solitary dinner at the Two Ecus.