"And Saxe was explicit, but he lied." She was too much of a woman to spare him the thrust, but it was the only revenge she took, and having taken it, she sat silent, her brows knit, her fingers playing unconsciously with Charlemagne's soft ears. The dog's head was on her lap, motionless, the gentle brown eyes fixed upon her face. Charlot lay asleep at her feet, breathing little heavy breaths of contentment, as if enough of his brain was awake to enjoy the sleep of the remainder.
"Yes," she said slowly, "I agree that the King's Provost-Marshal is explicit, but I do not read his letter as you do. Perhaps it is because Amboise has made me so suspicious. It is a sorrowful thing to say, but we have been taught that safety lies in distrust of Valmy. It is horrible, but it is not our fault, and I distrust now. Tristan is your enemy and ours. The King, the great King, is not above setting a trap. I think I see a double snare; a snare to catch the Dauphin, to catch all who are his friends in Amboise, and a snare to catch the great King's minister himself. Perhaps it is foolish, I know it is presumptuous, but let me read the letter my own way; you can show me afterwards where I am wrong. It is clever, but it is the cleverness of the man who thinks only of his own interests, who makes no allowance for love, loyalty, or single-hearted duty, and judges others by himself. Is that your great King, Monsieur d'Argenton?" and Commines, answering nothing, recognized the life-likeness of the portrait.
"But no!" she went on, "your great King is dead, the letter says so, and this is your friend Tristan who sends you the warning that you may make yourself secure in Amboise! What does that mean? You know that better than I, but I suppose it means that, first in the field, you may win the Dauphin's confidence and govern France through the boy. That is a great gift from an enemy, Monsieur d'Argenton, and what would the King say if he were alive? But the King is dead! Then why are you to note carefully how the Dauphin takes the news? For whose benefit are you to note it? For your own? But you are to make yourself secure in Amboise! For Tristan's? But how does it touch Tristan? For the King, who is dead? That is absurd. For the King, who is alive? for the King, who dictates the letter that he may lay hold of some chance word and torture it into God knows what vile use against the boy? Bear witness, gentlemen, both of you, there was no such word. And what is the ending of the letter? He commends you to the keeping of God! Tristan, the hangman, commends Monsieur d'Argenton to the keeping of God. There will be much need for His keeping if you make yourself secure in Amboise while the King lives. Do you not smell the King's unctuous, perverted religiosity in that sentence, Monsieur d'Argenton? It is a snare, a snare for us all, and if I were you I would ride to Valmy this very hour, though I foundered a dozen horses on the road. Monsieur La Mothe, am I not right?"
"Entirely right," said La Mothe heartily. He might have gone further and, following the precedent set by Adam in Eden, have said, "Eternally right!" for what lover ever thought his mistress in the wrong? But this time there was more than a lover's agreement. "Uncle, surely you see that Mademoiselle de Vesc is right, right every way? If that scoundrel has lied, then there is a trap set, but if it is the truth, surely your place is at Valmy?"
"Why?" asked Commines, but as he spoke he read the letter afresh, weighing each sentence separately. "Why not at Amboise?"
CHAPTER XXVI
COMMINES TAKES ADVICE
Respect kept La Mothe silent. How could he say bluntly, 'You owe everything you possess in the world to the man who is dead—position, title, office, wealth. Are these forgotten?' In his embarrassment he glanced at Ursula de Vesc. Owing Commines neither respect nor gratitude, she had no such scruple.
"Death is always terrible," she said softly, "or we make it terrible by our own terrors, but there will be a new terror added if love and the loyalty of gratitude die with the life. Is eaten bread so soon forgotten, Monsieur d'Argenton?"
Almost abstractedly Commines looked up from the paper in his hand. If he heard her, he gave no sign of having heard; certainly he showed no resentment at the implied censure. His mind was busy balancing prospects and possibilities. If Charles were king, Ursula de Vesc would be a power behind the throne. If, as she said, Louis—and not for the first time—played one of his grim jests full of a sinister possibility, to remain at Amboise would be fatal both to himself and to the boy. The King might say the Dauphin grasped at the crown while the father lived, and Philip de Commines abetted him. After all, Valmy was safest. Not many days before, Louis had told him with brutal frankness that the hand which pulled him from the gutter could fling him back again. Yes, Valmy was safest. But what account was he to give of his mission? The letter, whether false in its news or true, was a sufficient reason for his return. It was most natural, human, and loving that the faithful servant should stand by the bier of his dead master. It would even be a point in his favour if the King lived. No doubt Tristan had said, 'Test him and he will go over to the Dauphin.' Well, he would give Tristan the lie and prove that Louis came first, living or dead. Yes, Valmy was safest.