“No, indeed, Sire,” replied Chavigni, who really did not comprehend the King’s meaning, and was almost tempted to believe that he had suddenly gone mad. “Allow me to remind your Majesty that wolves are almost extinct in this part of France, and that tigers are altogether beasts of another country.”
“There are beasts of prey in every part of the world,” answered the King. “What I mean, Sir, is, that robbers and assassins are beginning to frequent our woods; especially, Sir, the wood of Mantes. Was it that, or was it the forest of Laye, in which the young Count de Blenau was attacked the other day?”
It was not easy on ordinary occasions to take Chavigni by surprise, and he was always prepared to repel open attack, or to parry indirect questions, with that unhesitating boldness, or skilful evasion, the proper application of which is but one of the lesser arts of diplomacy; but on the present occasion, the King’s question was not only so unexpected as nearly to overcome his habitual command of countenance, but was also uttered in such a tone as to leave him in doubt whether Louis’s suspicions were directed personally towards himself. He replied, however, without hesitation: “I believe it was the wood of Mantes, Sire; but I am not perfectly sure.”
“You, of all men, ought to be well informed on that point, Monsieur de Chavigni,” rejoined the King, “since you took care to send a servant to see it rightly done.”
The matter was now beyond a doubt, and Chavigni replied boldly: “Your Majesty is pleased to speak in riddles, which I am really at a loss to comprehend.”
“Well, well, Sir,” said Louis hastily, “it shall be inquired into, and made plain both to you and me. Any thing that is done legally must not be too strictly noticed; but I will not see the laws broken, and murder attempted, even to serve State purposes.”
Thus speaking, the King put his horse into a quicker pace, and Chavigni followed with his mind not a little discomposed, though his countenance offered not the slightest trace of embarrassment. How he was to act, now became the question; and running over in his own mind all the circumstances connected with the attack upon the Count de Blenau, he could see no other means by which Louis could have become acquainted with his participation therein, than by the loquacity of Philip, the woodman of Mantes: and as he came to this conclusion, Chavigni internally cursed that confident security which had made him reject the advice of Lafemas, when the sharp-witted Judge had counselled him to arrest Philip on first discovering that he had remarked the livery of Isabel and silver amongst the robbers.
In the present instance the irritable and unusually decided humour of the King, made him fear that inquiries might be instituted immediately, which would not only be dangerous to himself personally, but might probably overthrow all those plans which he had been labouring, in conjunction with the Cardinal, to bring to perfection. Calculating rapidly, therefore, all the consequences which might ensue, Chavigni resolved at once to have the Woodman placed in such a situation as to prevent him from giving any farther evidence of what he had seen. But far from showing any untimely haste, though he was the first to dismount in the court-yard in order to offer the King his aid in alighting, yet that ceremony performed, he loitered, patting his horse’s neck, and giving trifling directions to his groom, till such time as Louis had entered the Palace, and his figure had been seen passing the window at the top of the grand staircase. That moment, however, Chavigni darted into the Chateau, and seeking his own apartments, he wrote an order for the arrest of Philip the woodman, which with the same despatch he placed in the hands of two of his most devoted creatures, adding a billet to the Governor of the Bastille, in which he begged him to treat the prisoner with all kindness, and allow him all sort of liberty within the prison, but on no account to let him escape till he received notice from him.
We have already had occasion to see that Chavigni was a man who considered State-policy paramount to every other principle; and naturally not of an ungentle disposition or ignoble spirit, he had unfortunately been educated in a belief that nothing which was expedient for the statesman could be discreditable to the man. However, the original bent of his mind generally showed itself in some degree, even in his most unjustifiable actions, as the ground-work of a picture will still shine through, and give a colour to whatever is painted above it. In the present instance, as his only object was to keep the Woodman out of the way till such time as the King’s unwonted mood had passed by, he gave the strictest commands to those who bore the order for Philip’s arrest, to use him with all possible gentleness, and to assure his wife and family that no harm was intended to him. He also sent him a purse, to provide for his comfort in the prison, which he well knew could not be procured without the potent aid of gold.
The two attendants, accustomed to execute commands which required despatch, set out instantly on their journey, proceeding with all speed to Beaumont, and thence to Pontoise, where crossing the river Oise they soon after arrived at Meulan: and here a dispute arose concerning the necessity of calling upon two Exempts of that city to aid in arresting Philip the woodman, the one servant arguing that they had no such orders from their Lord, and the other replying that the said Philip might have twenty companions for aught they knew, who might resist their authority, they not being legally entitled to arrest his Majesty’s lieges. This argument was too conclusive to be refuted; and they therefore waited at Meulan till the two Exempts were ready to accompany them. It being night when they arrived at Meulan, and the two Exempts being engaged in “potations deep and strong,” drinking long life to the Cardinal de Richelieu, and success to the royal prisons of France, some time was of course spent before the party could proceed. However, after the lapse of about an hour, discussed no matter how, they all contrived to get into their saddles, and passing the bridge over the Seine, soon reached the first little village, whose white houses, conspicuous in the moon-light, seemed, on the dark back-ground of the forest, as if they had crept for protection into the very bosom of the wood; while it, sweeping round them on every side, appeared in its turn to afford them the friendly shelter that they sought.