Something seemed to tell him that the fate of this wretched captive was connected with his own, and that a great crisis in his life was impending. Worn out at last by these mysteriously recurring presentiments, he directed his steps as the day drew to its close toward the lists of the Tournelles. The day's jousting, in which Gabriel had not cared to take part, was just coming to an end. Gabriel could see Diane, and she saw him; and this interchange of glances at once put his gloomy thoughts to flight as the rays of the sun disperse the clouds. Gabriel forgot the unfortunate prisoner whom he had seen that day, to give himself up entirely to thoughts of the lovely maiden he was to see again in the evening.
CHAPTER X
AN ELEGY DURING THE PROGRESS OF A COMEDY
If was a custom handed down from the reign of François I. At least three times a week, the king, the nobles, and all the ladies of the court assembled in the evening in the queen's apartments. There they would chat about the gossip of the day with perfect freedom, and sometimes with a good deal of license. Private tête-à-têtes would often take place amid the general conversation; and, says Brantôme, "as a throng of earthly goddesses were assembled there, every nobleman and gentleman talked with her whom he loved the best." Frequently there was dancing too, or a play.
It was a party of this description that our friend Gabriel was to attend on the evening in question; and contrary to his custom, he arrayed and perfumed himself with considerable solicitude, so that he might not appear to disadvantage in the eyes of her "whom he loved the best," to quote Brantôme once more.
But Gabriel's delight was not altogether unalloyed by a feeling of uneasiness; and certain vague and offensive words which had been whispered in his hearing concerning Diane's approaching marriage had not failed to cause him some inward anxiety. Thanks to the joy he had felt in seeing Diane again, and in believing that he could distinguish in her expression signs of her former affection for him, he had almost forgotten that letter from the Cardinal de Lorraine which had been the cause of his taking his departure so hurriedly; but the rumors which were flying around, and the continual coupling of the names of Diane de Castro and François de Montmorency, which came to his ears only too plainly, brought back memory to his passionate heart. Was Diane reconciled, then, to that hateful marriage? Did she love this François? Distracting doubts which the evening's interview might not avail to solve satisfactorily.
Gabriel resolved therefore to question Martin-Guerre on the subject, for he had already made more than one acquaintance, and like most squires, was likely to have a much more extended knowledge in such matters than his master; for it is a fact of common observation in acoustics that reports of all sorts sound much louder on low ground, and that echoes are seldom heard except in valleys. This resolution came at a so much more fortunate time, because Martin-Guerre had also made up his mind to question his master, whose preoccupation had not escaped his notice, but who had not, in all conscience, any right to conceal his actions or his thoughts from a faithful retainer of five years' standing, and even more than that,—one who had saved his life.
From this mutual determination, and the conversation which ensued, Gabriel came to the conclusion that Diane de Castro did not love François de Montmorency, and Martin-Guerre that Gabriel did love Diane de Castro.
This twofold conclusion was so satisfactory to both parties that Gabriel arrived at the Louvre fully an hour before the gates were opened; and Martin-Guerre, as a mark of respect to the viscount's royal sweetheart, went off to the court tailor to buy a brown cloth jerkin and small-clothes of yellow tricot. He paid cash for the whole costume, and immediately arrayed himself in it so as to exhibit it in the evening in the antechambers of the Louvre, where he was to go in attendance on his master.
Imagine the tailor's amazement half an hour later to see Martin-Guerre appear again in other clothes. He commented on the fact. Martin-Guerre replied that the evening had seemed a bit cool to him, and that he had thought best to clothe himself a little more warmly. However, he was so very well pleased with the jerkin and the small-clothes that he had come to beg the tailor to sell him or make him another jerkin of the same material and like cut. To no purpose did the man of the yardstick remind Martin-Guerre that he would seem to have only one suit of clothes, and that he would do much better to order a different costume; for instance, a yellow jerkin and brown small-clothes, since he seemed to have a weakness for those particular colors. Martin-Guerre would not recede from his idea, and the tailor had to agree not to make a shade of difference in the garments, which he was to make for him at once, since he had none ready-made; but on this second order Martin-Guerre asked for some credit. He had paid cash handsomely for the first; he was the squire of Vicomte d'Exmès, captain of the king's Guards. The tailor had that monumental trust in human nature which has been from time immemorial the traditional propensity of his craft; so he consented, and promised to deliver the second costume complete the next day.