On we went, the wind and rain in our faces. By good luck the lantern held out, though its light was not much better than that of a glowworm. We picked our way through narrow streets swimming with water, past gutters babbling like mountain streams, and made a snail's progress through that infernal night. Now and again a broad sheet of lightning blazed athwart the darkness, showing the black and uneasy clouds overhead, and giving a momentary glimpse of tall, ghostly towers, of gabled roofs and pointed windows, and of houses that seemed to lean forward and form arcades, below which the crooked, glistening streets wound. As we were passing a large church—I found out later that it was St. Croix—the bells began to sound compline, and then from every steeple and spire in the city the chime was echoed, and borne across the night in strange sweetness by the storm. My little guide made his way bravely, and at length—it seemed an age—we reached the priory of the Capuchins. Lights were burning everywhere, and there was a huge log fire spluttering at the gate, which was still open. The arched passage beyond the gate, which led to the forecourt, was full of men, not hooded Capuchins, but men-at-arms, and it was easy to see that the priory had been turned into a camp. I explained that I bore despatches from Paris for M. de Montluc, and the words acted like magic. I was told to leave my horse to the boy, and was led along the galleries that bounded the cloisters of the forecourt. They were full of men, but all orderly and quiet, as may be imagined with Montluc at hand. At length we reached the hall, and there I was asked to wait until the General was informed of my arrival. All dripping and wet as I was, and unheeding the glances cast at me by those who were there, I sat down on a bench near the fireplace, in which, on account of the damp, a fire had been lit, and glowered into the flames, the blue smoke rising in little columns from my drenched clothes. No one spoke to me, nor did I address anyone, and I was struck by the extraordinary silence that was preserved. Men spoke in whispers, and even when a man-at-arms passed, his step was as light as that of a monk.
"Monsieur," said a voice, "will you have the goodness to follow me?"
I looked up, and saw an officer wearing the red and white sash of Randan's Light Horse, my old comrades, and the sight of the colours after so many years affected me to such a degree that at first I was unable to move, and the officer had to repeat his request. Then I arose, and followed him up what seemed an interminable stair. At last we halted before a door, and here to the knock we heard a sharp "Enter." Stepping in, I found myself before Montluc, and apologised for appearing in the drenched condition I was in. He took no notice of me, however, but kept walking up and down the cabinet like a tiger. He was in demi-mail, the collar of the Order at his neck, and as he paced the room with a halting step I observed with interest and respect the great soldier who in forty years of glorious service had but twice seen the Court. His defence of Siena was still ringing through Europe; but back upon that one saw the field of Pavia, the campaign in Naples, the defence of Marseilles, the siege of Perpignan, and the glorious campaign of Italy, which ended in the crown of Cerisolles, and where, but for him, the day was lost. I had served at Cerisolles myself; but though I had seen Montluc I had never known him. Years had, however, seemed to make no impression upon him; and, tall and lean, with long grey moustaches, and glittering, grey-green eyes, he looked like a fierce and starving cat as he restlessly limped to and fro.
At last he suddenly stopped, and, resting a hand on the hip broken at
Chieri, asked me abruptly:
"I am told you have brought despatches from Paris?"
"Monsieur!" And taking out the packet I had been entrusted with I handed it to him.
He received it in silence, and sitting down at a table littered with papers examined the seals. Then drawing his poniard he was about to cut open the packet when he arrested himself, saying:
"I see it is from the Queen."
"Monsieur, it was given to me by her Majesty herself, and when you have read it I have a message for you."
"The Queen must trust you."