Philip the Woodman was not forgotten in De Blenau’s new arrangements; and under the pretence of charging him with a letter back to St. Germain’s, in case Madame de Beaumont should not be in Languedoc, the young Count seduced him into a promise of accompanying him to Argentière. His real motive, however, was, to recompense the Woodman’s services, on arriving at his own property, in a manner which the scanty state of his finances prevented him from doing at Lyons.
Notwithstanding all the joy he felt at his deliverance, there was a heaviness hung over De Blenau as he rode out of Lyons, which he could not account for, and a sensation of fatigue which he had never felt before. To shorten the road, he beckoned to the Woodman, who, with Henri de La Mothe, had dropped a little behind, and made him relate the circumstances which led to his being despatched with the King’s pardon to Lyons. Philip’s story, which occupied a long while in telling, may be considerably shortened without disadvantage.
It must be remembered, that at the time of De Blenau’s liberation from the Bastille, Chavigni had promised, as some compensation for all that Philip had suffered by his means, to have him appointed Sous-lieutenant of the forest of Mantes: and he kept his word.
Philip was placed in the office, and exercised its functions, but the actual brevet containing his official appointment had been delayed by a multitude of other affairs pressing for attention, till the Statesman’s return from Narbonne. At length, Philip heard that Chavigni had returned, and that the King, with all the Ministers, were once more at St. Germain’s; and he ventured to wait upon his patron, as he had been desired, to remind him of expediting the brevet. There were several persons waiting, and in his turn he was shown into the Statesman’s cabinet.
Chavigni had forgotten his face, and asked the simple question, “Who are you?”
Such simple questions, however, often produce more important consequences. “I am the Woodman,” replied Philip, “who was in prison with the Count de Blenau.”
“The Count de Blenau!” exclaimed Chavigni, while an expression of horror passed over his countenance. “By all the Saints, I had forgot! Yet, let me see, to-day is Wednesday—there is yet time—stay here a moment!” and he rushed out of the room, leaving the astonished Woodman not knowing at all what he meant. In about a quarter of an hour the Statesman returned, breathless with the expedition he had used—“There!” he exclaimed, putting a paper into Philip’s hand—“There is his pardon, signed by both the King and the Cardinal!—Away! take the swiftest horse in my stable!—lose not a moment, or you will be too late! Use the King’s name for fresh horses, and show that signature.—Tell the Count, Chavigni has kept his word.”
“And where am I to go?” demanded Philip, quietly, still completely ignorant of the cause of Chavigni’s agitation.
“To Lyons, to Lyons! you fool!” cried Chavigni. “If you use not all speed, the Count’s head will be off before you arrive with his pardon.”
“The Count de Blenau?” demanded Philip.