A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac, - [if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud .txt] 📗

a ‘kerchief already stained with blood; and from this I gathered that the king in his frenzy had wounded her slightly. Standing before her mistress, with her hair bristling, like a wild-cat’s fur, and her arms akimbo, was Fanchette, her harsh face and square form instinct with fury and defiance. Madame de Bruhl and Simon cowered against the wall not far from them; and in a chair, into which he had apparently just thrown himself, sat the king, huddled up and collapsed, the point of his sword trailing on the ground beside him, and his nerveless hand scarce retaining force to grip the pommel.

In a moment I made up my mind what to do, and going to him in silence, I laid my pistols, sword, and dagger on a stool by his side. Then I knelt.

‘The door, sire,’ I said, ‘is there. It is for your Majesty to open it when you please. Here, too, sire, are my weapons. I am your prisoner, the Provost-Marshal is outside, and you can at a word deliver me to him. Only one thing I beg, sire,’ I continued earnestly, ‘that your Majesty will treat as a delusion the idea that I meditated for a moment disrespect or violence to your person.’

He looked at me dully, his face pale, his eyes fish-like. ‘Sanctus, man!’ he muttered, ‘why did you raise your hand?’

‘Only to implore your Majesty to pause a moment,’ I answered, watching the intelligence return slowly to his face. ‘If you will deign to listen I can explain in half a dozen words, sire. M. de Bruhl’s men are six or seven, the Provost has eight or nine; but the former are the wilder blades, and if M. de Bruhl find your Majesty in my lodging, and infer his own defeat, he will be capable of any desperate stroke. Your person would hardly be safe in his company through the streets. And there is another consideration,’ I went on, observing with joy that the king listened, and was gradually regaining his composure. ‘That is, the secrecy you desired to preserve, sire, until this matter should be well advanced. M. de Rosny laid the strictest injunctions on me in that respect, fearing an EMEUTE in Blois should your Majesty’s plans become known.’

‘You speak fairly,’ the king answered with returning energy, though he avoided looking at the women. ‘Bruhl is likely enough to raise one. But how am I to get out, sir?’ he continued, querulously. ‘I cannot remain here. I shall be missed, man! I am not a hedge-captain, neither sought nor wanted!’

‘If your Majesty would trust me?’ I said slowly and with hesitation.

‘Trust you!’ he retorted peevishly, holding up his hands and gazing intently at his nails, of the shape and whiteness of which he was prouder than any woman. ‘Have I not trusted you? If I had not trusted you, should I have been here? But that you were a Huguenot—God forgive me for saying it!—I would have seen you in hell before I would have come here with you!’

I confess to having heard this testimony to the Religion with a pride which made me forget for a moment the immediate circumstances—the peril in which we stood, the gloomy room darkly lighted by a single candle, the scared faces in the background, even the king’s huddled figure, in which dejection and pride struggled for expression. For a moment only; then I hastened to reply, saying that I doubted not I could still extricate his Majesty without discovery.

‘In Heaven’s name do it, then!’ he answered sharply. ‘Do what you like, man! Only get me back into the castle, and it shall not be a Huguenot will entice me out again. I am over old for these adventures!’

A fresh attack on the door taking place as he said this induced me to lose no time in explaining my plan, which he was good enough to approve, after again upbraiding me for bringing him into such a dilemma. Fearing lest the door should give way prematurely, notwithstanding the bars I had provided for it, and goaded on by Madame de Bruhl’s face, which evinced the utmost terror, I took the candle and attended his Majesty into the inner room; where I placed my pistols beside him, but silently resumed my sword and dagger. I then returned for the women, and indicating by signs that they were to enter, held the door open for them.

Mademoiselle, whose bandaged hand I could not regard without emotion, though the king’s presence and the respect I owed him forbade me to utter so much as a word, advanced readily until she reached the doorway abreast of me. There, however, looking back, and seeing Madame de Bruhl following her, she stopped short, and darting a haughty glance at me, muttered, ‘And—that lady? Are we to be shut up together, sir?’

‘Mademoiselle,’ I answered quickly in the low tone she had used herself, ‘have I ever asked anything dishonourable of you?’

She seemed by a slight movement of the head to answer in the negative.

‘Nor do I now,’ I replied with earnestness. ‘I entrust to your care a lady who has risked great peril for US; and the rest I leave to you.’

She looked me very keenly in the face for a second, and then, without answering, she passed on, Madame and Fanchette following her in that order. I closed the door and turned to Simon; who by my direction had blown the embers of the fire into a blaze so as to partially illumine the room, in which only he and I now remained. The lad seemed afraid to meet my eye, and owing to the scene at which he had just assisted, or to the onslaught on the door, which grew each moment more furious, betrayed greater restlessness than I had lately observed in him. I did not doubt his fidelity, however, or his devotion to mademoiselle; and the orders I had to give him were simple enough.

‘This is what you have got to do,’ I said, my hand already on the bars. ‘The moment I am outside secure this door. After that, open to no one except Maignan. When he applies, let him in with caution, and bid him, as he loves M. de Rosny, take his men as soon as the coast is clear, and guard the King of France to the castle. Charge him to be brave and wary, for his life will answer for the king’s.’

Twice I repeated this; then fearing lest the Provost-Marshal should make good his word and apply a ram to the door, I opened the trap. A dozen angry voices hailed my appearance, and this with so much violence and impatience that it was some time before I could get a hearing; the knaves threatening me if I would not instantly open, and persisting that I should do so without more words. Their leader at length quieted them, but it was plain that his patience too was worn out. ‘Do you surrender or do you not?’ he said. ‘I am not going to stay out of my bed all night for you!’

‘I warn you,’ I answered, ‘that the order you have there has been cancelled by the king!’

‘That is not my business,’ he rejoined hardily.

‘No, but it will be when the king sends for you to-morrow morning,’ I retorted; at which he looked somewhat moved. ‘However, I will surrender to you on two conditions,’ I continued, keenly observing the coarse faces of his following. ‘First, that you let me keep my arms until we reach the gate-house, I giving you my parole to come with you quietly. That is number one.’