"And we are told in this book," continued the prosy baron, laying his hand on a mighty tome of Philip de Comines; "we are told in this book that the life of Louis XI., when he was attacked by the rebellious Burgundians at Liege, was saved solely by the valour of the Scots Guards, who formed a rampart around him till the Burgundians were defeated."
"Morbleu! monsieur," said De Mesmai, who now joined them, as the baroness had withdrawn, "the story of the duel between the Sieur de Vivancourt of the regiment of Picardie and the Scots Royal, is worth all that you will find in Philip—Philip—peste! I have forgotten his name. But I will wager a hundred Napoleons to one, that he does not relate a story by one half so good as that which I have heard from you, of the unpleasant manner in which the English widow of Monsieur of France, Louis XII., was surprised in a tête-à-tête with the Duke of Suffolk, in this very apartment, by the furious Duke de Valois, who compelled her to marry Suffolk upon the very instant,—ay, pardieu! at the very drumhead, as the saying is."
Certain associations occurring to the baron's mind made him colour, as he raised his eyes from his flannel-cased legs, to the tall, erect, and soldier-like figure of De Mesmai. He glanced furtively at the chair of the baroness, but it was empty.
"Ay, Maurice, 'twas a strange affair that; but Monsieur of Valois should have given the English duke a year or two's residence in the Bastile for his presumption. The stone cages of Louis XI. were then in good condition, and should always have been tenanted by such blades as Monsieur of Suffolk."
"You are very savage in disposition, monsieur, to talk of punishing so slight a faux pas so severely. But you will allow that a little gallantry is excusable here in our sunny clime of France." The old man glanced keenly at the swaggering guardsman, and saw a strange smile on his face. "A comfortable place this, faith!" he continued; "and if these old walls could speak, they would tell strange tales of hatred and sorrow, joy and grief. Many a fair one's scruples have been routed by the coup-de-main of the stout gallants of the olden time. Monsieur le Baron must know that our friend Stuart admires this old house of Clugny amazingly. You cannot conceive the sensations of pleasure with which he viewed that gloomy court."
These last observations were made by De Mesmai to serve an end of his own. It was the baron's hobby to have his house praised, and in return he invariably bored his visitors with a prolix account of it. Having, as he supposed, set fire to the train, De Mesmai retired to promenade in the garden with Madame, while her husband plunged at once into the history of the Hôtel de Clugny. He began with the time when its site was occupied by the palace of the Roman emperors in Gaul, the Palatium Thermarum, erected A.D. 300, from which date he traced its history down to Clovis, the founder of the French monarchy, thence to the time of Philip Augustus, who in 1218 bestowed it on one of his chamberlains. On the site of the Palatium Thermarum the Abbot of Clugny built the present hotel, which was finished and completed, as it stands at present, by Jacques d'Amboise in 1505. James V. of Scotland resided in it for some months after his marriage with the beautiful and unfortunate Madeline of France. From that period the indefatigable baron related its vicissitudes, and those of its several occupants, down to the days of the Revolution. He was just describing a celebrated conclave of that revolutionary body, the section Marat, who met in the apartment where they were then conversing, when, on looking round, he became suddenly aware that the baroness and De Mesmai were both absent. He changed colour, stopped in his history, and became much disturbed.
"Mon ami!" said he, "where is the Captain de Mesmai?"
"I know not," said Stuart, looking round with surprise, and missing him for the first time. "He was here a moment since, and I did not see him leave the room."
"Diable!" growled the baron, grinding his teeth.
"He is probably in the garden enjoying a cigar. I observed him take from his pocket the silver case which he carries."