168 1822
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO 
 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 by 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 & Mrs. Francis Smith 
 
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 3 1822 01168 1822
 
 IN KINGS' BYWAYS
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
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 New York : LONGMANS, GREEN, AND Co.
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 
 
 Page 326
 
 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 STANLEY J. \plYMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 *A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," " THE CASTLE INN," " COUNT HANNIBAL," ETC. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
 1902
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY 
 STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
 A II rights reserved.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAET I 
 
 PAGK 
 
 FLORE, 1 
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE, 51 
 
 FOR THE CAUSE, . . . . .86 
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM, 131 
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL, .... 152 
 
 HUNT THE OWLER, 177 
 
 THE Two PAGES, 194 
 
 PAET II 
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 
 
 EPISODE OF THE FOWL IN THE POT, . 213 
 
 EPISODE OF THE BOXWOOD FIRE, . . 238 
 
 EPISODE OF THE SNOWBALL, . . . 266 
 
 s 
 
 PAET III 
 KING TERROR 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE, . . 295 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW, . . . 329
 
 PART I
 
 FLORE 
 
 (1643) 
 
 IT was about a month after my marriage and 
 third clerk to the most noble the Bishop of Beau- 
 vais, and even admitted on occasions to write in 
 his presence and prepare his minutes, who should 
 marry if I might not? it was about a month 
 after my marriage, I say, that the thunderbolt, to 
 which I have referred, fell and shattered my for- 
 tunes. I rose one morning they were firing guns 
 for the victory of Rocroy, I remember, so that it 
 must have been eight weeks or more after the 
 death of the late king, and the glorious rising of 
 the Sun of France and who as happy as I? A 
 summer morning, Monsieur, and bright, and I had 
 all I wished. The river as it sparkled and rippled 
 against the piers of the Pont Neuf far below, the 
 wet roofs that twinkled under our garret window, 
 were not more brilliant than my lord the Bishop's 
 fortunes : and as is the squirrel so is the tail. Of 
 a certainty, I was happy that morning. I thought 
 of the little hut under the pine wood at Gabas in
 
 2 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Beam, where I was born, and of my father cob- 
 bling by the unglazed window, his night-cap on his 
 bald head, and his face plaistered where the sherd 
 had slipped ; and I puffed out my cheeks to think 
 that I had climbed so high. High? How high 
 might not a man climb, who had married the 
 daughter of the Queen's under-porter, and had 
 sometimes the ear of my lord, the Queen's minis- 
 ter my lord of Beauvais in whom all men saw 
 the coming master of France! my lord whose 
 stately presence beamed on a world still chilled bv 
 the dead hand of Richelieu ! 
 
 But that morning, that very morning, I was to 
 learn that who climbs may fall. I went below at 
 the usual hour; at the usual hour Monseigneur 
 left, attended, for the Council; presently all the 
 house was in an uproar. My lord had returned, 
 and called for Prosper. I fancied even then that 
 I caught something ominous in the sound of my 
 name as it passed from lip to lip ; and nervously 
 I made all haste to the chamber. But fast as I 
 went I did not go fast enough ; one thrust me on 
 this side, another on that. The steward cursed me 
 as he handed me on to the head-clerk, who stormed 
 at me ; while the secretary waited for me at the 
 door, and, seizing me by the neck, ran me into 
 the room. " In, rascal, in ! " he growled in my ear, 
 "and I hope your skin may pay for it!" 
 
 Naturally by this time I was quaking : and Mon- 
 seigneur's looks finished me. He stood in the mid-
 
 FLORE 3 
 
 die of the chamber, his plump handsome face pale 
 and sullen. And as he scowled at me, " Yes!" he 
 said curtly, " that is the fellow. What does he say?" 
 
 " Speak !" the head-clerk cried, seizing me by the 
 ear and twisting it until I fell on my knees. "Imbe- 
 cile ! But it is likely enough he did it on purpose." 
 
 "Ay, and was bribed!" said the secretary. 
 
 " He should be hung up," the steward cried, truc- 
 ulently, "before he does further mischief! And if 
 my lord will give the word " 
 
 "Silence!" the Bishop said, with a dark glance 
 at me. "What does he plead?" 
 
 The head-clerk twisted my ear until I screamed. 
 "Ingrate!" he cried. "Do you hear his Grace 
 speak to you? Answer him aloud!" 
 
 "My lord," I cried piteously, "I do not know 
 of what I am accused. And besides, I have done 
 nothing ! Nothing ! " 
 
 "Nothing!" half a dozen echoed. "Nothing!" 
 the head-clerk added brutally. " Nothing, and you 
 add a cipher to the census of Paris ! Nothing, 
 and your lying pen led my lord to state the pop- 
 ulation to be five millions instead of five hundred 
 thousand ! Nothing, and you sent his Grace's 
 Highness to the Council to be corrected by low 
 clerks and people, and made a laughing-stock for 
 the Cardinal, and " 
 
 "Silence!" said the Bishop, fiercely. "Enough! 
 Take him away, and " 
 
 " Hang him ! " cried the steward.
 
 4 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 " No, fool, but have him to the courtyard, and 
 let the grooms flog him through the gates. And 
 have a care you," he continued, addressing me, 
 "that I do not see your face again or it will be 
 worse for you ! " 
 
 I flung myself down and would have appealed 
 against the sentence, but the Bishop, who had 
 suffered at the Council and whose ears still 
 burned, was pitiless. Before I could utter three 
 words a dozen officious hands plucked me up and 
 thrust me to the door. Outside worse things 
 awaited me. A shower of kicks and cuffs and 
 blows fell upon me ; vainly struggling and shriek- 
 ing, and seeking still to gain his lordship's ear, I 
 was hustled along the passage to the courtyard, 
 and there dragged amid jeers and laughter to the 
 fountain, and brutally flung in. When I scram- 
 bled out, they thrust me back again and again : 
 until, almost dead with cold and rage, I was at 
 last permitted to escape, only to be hunted round 
 the yard with stirrup-leathers that cut like knives, 
 and drew a scream at every stroke. I doubled 
 like a hare; more than once I knocked half a 
 dozen down; but I was fast growing exhausted, 
 when some one more prudent or less cruel than 
 his fellows, opened the gates before me, and I 
 darted into the street. 
 
 I was sobbing with rage and pain, dripping, rag- 
 ged, and barefoot; for some saving rogue had 
 prudently drawn off my shoes in the scuffle. It
 
 FLORE 5 
 
 was a wonder that I was not fallen upon and 
 chased through the streets. Fortunately in the 
 street opposite my lord's gates opened the mouth 
 of a little alley. I plunged into it, and in the first 
 dark corner dropped exhausted and lay sobbing 
 and weeping on a heap of refuse. I who had risen 
 so happily a few hours before ! I who had climbed 
 so high ! I who had a wife new-married in my 
 garret at home! 
 
 I do not know how long I lay there, now curs- 
 ing the jealousy of the clerks, who would have 
 flayed me to save themselves, and now the cruelty 
 of the grooms who thought it fine sport to whip 
 a scholar. But the first tempest of passion had 
 spent itself, when a woman not the first whom my 
 plight had attracted, but the others had merely 
 shrugged their shoulders and passed on paused 
 before me. "What a white skin !" she cried, mak- 
 ing great eyes at me ; and they had cut my clothes 
 so that I was half bare to her. And then, "You 
 are not a street-prowler. How come you here, my 
 lad, in that guise?" 
 
 I was silent, and pretended to be sullen, being 
 ashamed to meet her gaze. 
 
 She stood a moment staring at me curiously. 
 Then, "Better go home," she said, shaking her 
 head sedately, "or those who have robbed you 
 may end by worse. I doubt not this is what 
 comes of raking and night-work. Go home, my 
 lad," she repeated, and went on her way.
 
 6 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Home! The word raised new thoughts, new 
 hopes, new passions. I scrambled to my feet. I 
 had a home the Bishop might deprive me of it : 
 but I had also a wife, from whom God only could 
 separate me. I felt a sudden fire run through me 
 at the thought of her, and of all I had suffered 
 since I left her arms: and with new boldness I 
 turned, and sore and aching as I was, I stumbled 
 back to the place of my shame. 
 
 The steward and two or three of his underlings 
 were standing in the gateway, and saw me ap- 
 proach; and began to jeer. The high grey front 
 of Monseigneur's hotel, three sides of a square, 
 towered up behind them ; the steward in the open- 
 ing sprawled his feet apart and set his hands to 
 his stout sides, and jeered at me. "Ha! ha! 
 Here is the lame leper from the Cour des Mira- 
 cles ! " he cried. " Have a care or he will give you 
 the itch!" 
 
 "Good sir, the swill-tub is open," cried another, 
 mocking me. "Help yourself!" 
 
 A third spat at me and bade mo begone for a 
 pig. The passers there were always a knot of 
 gazers opposite my lord of Beauvais' palace 
 in those days, when we had the Queen's ear 
 and bade fair to succeed Kichelieu stayed to 
 stare. 
 
 "I want my goods," I said, trembling. 
 
 " Your goods ! " the steward answered, swelling 
 out his brawny chest, and smiling at me over it.
 
 FLORE 7 
 
 " Your goods, indeed ! Begone, and be thankful 
 you have escaped so well." 
 
 "Give me my things from my room," I said 
 stubbornly; and I tried to enter. "They are my 
 own!" 
 
 He moved sideways so as to block the passage. 
 "Your goods? They are Monseigneur's," he said. 
 
 "My wife, then!" 
 
 He winked, the great beast. "Your wife?" he 
 said. "Well, true; she is not Monseigneur's. But 
 she will do for me." And with a coarse laugh he 
 winked again at the crowd. 
 
 At that the pent-up rage which I had so long 
 stemmed broke out. He stood a head taller than 
 I, and a foot wider ; but with a scream I sprang at 
 his throat, and by the very surprise of the at- 
 tack and his unwieldiness, I got him down and 
 beat his face with my fists. His fellows, as soon 
 as they recovered from their astonishment, tore 
 me off, showing me no mercy. But by that time 
 I had so marked him that the blood poured down 
 his fat cheeks. He scrambled to his feet, panting 
 and furious, his oaths tripping over one another. 
 
 "To the Chatelet with him!" he cried, spitting 
 out a tooth and staring at me through the mud 
 on his face. "He shall swing for this! He tried 
 to break in. I call you to witness he tried to 
 break in ! " 
 
 " Ay, to the Chatelet ! To the Chatelet ! " cried 
 the crowd, siding with the stronger party. He
 
 8 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 was my lord of Beauvais' steward; I was a gut- 
 ter-snipe and dangerous. A dozen hands held 
 me tightly ; yet not so tightly, but that, a coach 
 passing at that moment and driving us all to the 
 wall, I managed by a jerk I was desperate by 
 this time, and savage as a wild-cat to snatch 
 myself loose. In a second I was speeding down 
 the Rue Bons Enfants with the hue and cry be- 
 hind me. 
 
 I have said, I was desperate. In an hour the 
 world was changed for me. In an hour I had 
 broken with every tradition of safe and modest 
 and clerkly life; and from a sleek scribe was be- 
 come a ragged outlaw flying through the streets. 
 I saw the gallows, I felt the lash sink like molten 
 lead into the quivering back, still bleeding from 
 the stirrup-leathers : I forgot all but the danger. 
 I lived only in my feet, and with them made su- 
 perhuman efforts. Fortunately the light was fail- 
 ing, and in the dusk I distanced the pack by a 
 dozen yards. I passed the corner of the Palais 
 Royal so swiftly that the Queen's Guards, though 
 they ran out at the alarm, were too late to inter- 
 cept me. Thence I turned instinctively to the left, 
 and with the cry of pursuit in my ears strained 
 towards the old bridge, intending to cross to the 
 Cito, where I knew all the lanes and byways. But 
 the bridge was alarmed, the Chatelet seemed to 
 yawn for me they were just lighting the brazier 
 in front of the gloomy pile and doubling back,
 
 FLORE 9 
 
 while the air roared with shouts of warning and 
 cries of "Stop thief! Stop thief!"! evaded my 
 pursuers, and sped up the narrow Rue Trousse- 
 vache, with the hue and cry hard on my heels. 
 
 I had no plan now, no aim; only terror added 
 wings to my feet. The end of that street gained 
 I darted blindly down another, and yet another ; 
 with straining chest, and legs that began to fail, 
 and always in my ears the yells that rose round 
 me as fresh pursuers joined in the chase. Still I 
 kept ahead, I was even gaining ; with night thick- 
 ening, I might hope to escape, if I could baffle 
 those who from time to time but in a half-hearted 
 way, not knowing if I were armed made an at- 
 tempt to stop me or trip me up. 
 
 Suddenly turning a corner I had gained a quiet 
 part where blind walls lined an alley I discovered 
 a man running before me. At the same instant 
 the posse in pursuit quickened their pace in a last 
 effort; I, in answer, put forth my last strength, 
 and in a dozen paces I came up with the man. 
 He turned to me, our eyes met as we ran abreast ; 
 desperate myself, I read equal terror in his look, 
 and before I could think what it might mean, he 
 bent himself sideways as he ran, and with a singu- 
 lar movement flung a parcel he carried into my 
 arms. Then wheeling abruptly he plunged into a 
 side-lane on his left. 
 
 It was done in a moment. Instinctively I caught 
 the burden : but the impetus with which he had
 
 10 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 passed it to me, sent me reeling to the right, and 
 the lane being narrow, I fell against the wall be- 
 fore I could steady myself. As luck would have it, 
 that which should have destroyed me, was my 
 salvation; I struck the wall where a door broke 
 it, the door, lightly latched, flew open under the 
 impact, I fell inwards. I alighted, in darkness, on 
 my hands and knees, heard the stifled yelp of a 
 dog, and in a second, though I could see nothing, 
 I was up and had the door closed behind me. 
 
 Then I listened. Panting and breathless, I heard 
 the hunt go raving through the lane, and the 
 noise die in the distance ; until only the beating of 
 my heart broke the close silence of the darkness 
 in which I stood. When this had lasted a minute 
 or two, I began to peer and wonder where I was ; 
 and remembering the dog I had heard, I moved 
 stealthily to find the latch, and escape. As I did 
 so, the bundle, to which through all I had clung 
 instinctively, for I had not thought of it moved 
 in my arms. 
 
 I almost dropped it; then I held it from me 
 with a swift movement of repulsion. It stirred 
 again, it was warm. In a moment the truth flashed 
 upon me. It was a child ! 
 
 Burning hot as I had been before, the sweat rose 
 on me at the thought. For I saw again the man's 
 face of terror, and I guessed that he had stolen 
 the child, and I feared the worst. He had mis- 
 taken the rabble hooting at my heels for the
 
 FLORE 11 
 
 avengers of blood, and had been only too thank- 
 ful to rid himself of the damning fact, and es- 
 cape. 
 
 And now I had it, and had as much, or more, 
 to fear. For an instant the impulse to lay the 
 parcel down, and glide out, and so be clear of it, 
 was strong upon me. And that I think is what 
 the ordinary clerk, being no hero, nor bred like a 
 soldier to risk his life, would have done. But for 
 one thing, I was desperate. I knew not, after 
 this, whither to go or where to save myself. For 
 another thing my clerk's wits were already busy, 
 showing me how with luck I might use the occa- 
 sion and avoid the risk; how with luck I might 
 discover the parents and without suffering for the 
 theft, restore the child. Beyond that I saw an 
 opening vista of pardon, employment and reward. 
 
 Suddenly, the dog whined again, close to me; 
 and that decided me. I had found the latch by 
 this time, and warily I drew the door open. In 
 a moment I was in the lane, looking up and 
 down. I saw nothing to alarm me ; darkness had 
 completely fallen, no one was moving, the neigh- 
 bourhood seemed to be of the quietest. I made 
 up my mind to take the bold course : to return 
 at all hazards to the Rue St. Honore, seek my 
 father-in-law at the gates of the Palais Royal 
 where he had the night turn and throw the child 
 and myself on his protection. 
 
 Without doubt it was the wisest course I could
 
 12 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 adopt. In those days the streets of Paris, even 
 in the district of the Louvre and Palais Royal, 
 were ill-lighted; a network of lanes and dark 
 courts encroached on the most fashionable parts, 
 and favoured secret access to them, and I foresaw 
 no great difficulty, short of the moment when I 
 must appear in the lighted lodge and exhibit my 
 rags. But my evil star was still above the hori- 
 zon. I had scarcely reached the end of the lane; 
 I was still hesitating there, uncertain which way 
 to turn for the shortest course, when a babel of 
 voices broke on my ear, lights swept round a dis- 
 tant corner, and I found myself threatened by a 
 new danger. I did not wait to consider. These 
 people, with their torches and weapons, might 
 have naught to do with me. But my nerves were 
 shaken, the streets of Paris were full of terrors, 
 every corner had a gallows for me and I turned 
 and, fleeing back the way I had come, I made a 
 hurried effort to find the house which had shel- 
 tered me before. Failing, in one or two trials, 
 and seeing that the lights were steadily coming 
 on that way, and that in a moment I must be 
 discovered, I sprang across the way, and dived 
 into the side-lane by which the child-stealer had 
 vanished. 
 
 I had not taken ten steps before some object, 
 unseen in the darkness, tripped me up, and I fell 
 headlong on the stones. In the fall my burden 
 rolled from my arms; instantly it was snatched
 
 FLORE 13 
 
 up by a dark figure, which rose as by magic be- 
 side me, and was gone into the gloom almost as 
 quickly. I got up gasping and limping, and flung 
 a curse after the man; but the lights already 
 shone on the mouth of the lane in which I stood, 
 and I had no time to lose if I would not be de- 
 tected. I set off running down the passage, turned 
 to the left at the end, and along a second lane, 
 thence passed into another and a wider road; 
 nor did I stop until I had left all signs and 
 sounds of pursuit far behind me. 
 
 The place in which I came to a stand at last- 
 too weak to run any farther was a piece of waste 
 land, in the northern suburbs of the city. High 
 up on the left I could discern a light or two, 
 piercing the gloom of the sky; and I knew they 
 shone from the wind-mills of Montmartre. In every 
 other direction lay darkness ; desolation swept by 
 the night wind ; silence broken only by the dismal 
 howling of far-off watch-dogs. I might have been 
 ten miles from Paris : even as I was a thousand 
 miles from the man who had risen so happily that 
 morning. 
 
 For very misery I sobbed aloud. I did not know 
 exactly where I was ; nor had I known, had I the 
 strength to return. Excitement had carried me far, 
 but suddenly I felt the weakness of exhaustion, and 
 sick and aching I craved only a hole in which to 
 lie down and die. Fortunately at this moment I 
 met the wind, and caught the scent of new-mown
 
 14 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 hay: stumbling forward a few steps with such 
 strength as remained, I made out a low building 
 looming through the night. I staggered to it; I 
 discovered that it was a shed ; and entering with 
 my hands extended, I felt the hay under my feet. 
 With a sob of thankfulness I took two steps for- 
 ward and sank down; but instead of the soft 
 couch I expected, I fell on the angular body of a 
 man, who with a savage curse rose and flung 
 me off. 
 
 This at another time would have scared me to 
 death ; but I was so far gone in wretchedness that 
 I felt no fear and little surprise. I rolled away 
 without a word, and curling myself up at a dis- 
 tance of a few feet from my fellow-lodger, fell in 
 a minute fast asleep. 
 
 When I awoke, daylight, though the sun was not 
 up, was beginning to creep into the shed. I turned, 
 every bone in my body ached : the weals of the 
 stirrup-leathers smarted and burned. I remem- 
 bered yesterday's doings, and groaned. Pres- 
 ently the hay beside me rustled, and over the 
 shoulder of the mass against which I lay I made 
 out the face of a man, peering curiously at me. 
 I had not yet broken with every habit of suspicion, 
 nor could in a moment recollect that I had noth- 
 ing but rags to lose ; and I gazed back spellbound. 
 In silence which neither broke by so much as a 
 movement we waited gazing into one another's 
 eyes ; while the light in the low-roofed hovel grew
 
 FLORE 15 
 
 and grew, and minute by minute brought out 
 more clearly the other's features. 
 
 At length I knew him, and almost at the same 
 moment he recognized me; uttering an oath of 
 rage, he rose up as if to spring at my throat. 
 But either because I did not recoil being too 
 deep-set in the hay to move or for some other 
 reason, he only shook his claw-like fingers at me, 
 and held off. "Where is it, you dog?" he cried, 
 finding his voice with an effort. " Speak, or I will 
 have your throat slit. Speak; do you hear? 
 What have you done with it ? " 
 
 He was the man who had passed the child to 
 me! I watched him needfully, and after a mo- 
 ment's hesitation I told him that it had been 
 taken from me, and I told him when and where. 
 
 "And you don't know the man who took it?" 
 he screamed. 
 
 "Not from Adam," I said. "It was dark." 
 
 In his disappointment and rage, at receiving the 
 answer, I thought again that he would fall upon 
 me: but he only choked and swore, and then 
 stood scowling, the picture of despair. Until, 
 some new thought pricking him, he threw up his 
 arms and cried out afresh. " Oh, mon dieu, what 
 a fool I was!" he moaned. "What a craven I 
 was ! I had a fortune in my hands, and, fool that 
 I was, I threw it away!" 
 
 I thought bitterly of my own case I was not 
 much afraid of him now, for I began to think that
 
 16 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 I understood him. "So had I, yesterday morn- 
 ing," I said, "a fortune. You are in no worse 
 case than others." 
 
 " Yesterday morning ! " he exclaimed. " No, last 
 night. Then, if you like, you had. But yesterday 
 morning? Fortune and you, scarecrow? Go hang 
 yourself." 
 
 He looked gloomily at me for a moment with 
 his arms crossed on his chest, and his face darkly 
 set. Then "Who are you?" he asked. 
 
 I told him. When he learned that the rabble 
 that had alarmed him, had in fact been pursuing 
 me so that his fright had been groundless he 
 broke into fresh execrations : and these so violent 
 that I began to feel a sort of contempt for him, 
 and even plucked up spirit to tell him that look 
 as disdainfully as he might at me, he seemed to 
 be in no better case. 
 
 He looked at me askance at that. "Ay, as it 
 turns out," he said grimly. "In worse case, if 
 you please. But see the difference, idiot. You are 
 a poor fool beaten from pillar to post; at all 
 men's mercy, and naught to get by it; while I 
 played for a great stake. I have lost, it is true ! 
 I have lost!" he continued, his voice rising al- 
 most to a yell, "and we are both in the gutter. 
 But if I had won if I had won, man " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence but flung him- 
 self down on his face in the hay, and bit and tore 
 it in his passion. A moment I viewed him with
 
 FLORE 17 
 
 contempt, and thought him a poor creature for a 
 villain. Then the skirt of his coat, curling over 
 as he grovelled and writhed, disclosed something 
 that turned my thoughts into another channel. 
 Crushed under his leather girdle was a little cape, 
 or a garment of that kind, of velvet so lustrous 
 that it shone in the dark place where I saw it, as 
 the eyes shine in a toad. Nor it only : before he 
 rolled over and hid it again, I espied embroidered 
 on one corner of the velvet a stiff gold crown ! 
 
 It was with difficulty that I repressed a cry. 
 Cold, damp, aching, I felt the heat run through 
 me like wine. A crown ! A little purple cape ! 
 And taken beyond doubt from the infant he had 
 stolen last night ! Then last night last night I 
 had carried the King ! I had carried the King of 
 France in my arms. 
 
 I no longer found it hard to understand the 
 man's terror of yesterday ; or his grief and despair 
 of this morning. He had indeed played for a 
 great stake ; he had risked torture and the wheel ; 
 death in its most horrible form. And that for 
 which he had risked so much he had lost ! lost ! 
 
 I looked at him with new eyes, and a sort of 
 wonder : and had scarcely time to compose my 
 face, when, the paroxysm of his fury spent, he 
 rose, and looking at me askance, to see how I 
 took his actions, he asked me sullenly whither I 
 was going. 
 
 "To Monseigneur's," I said cunningly: had I 
 2
 
 18 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 answered, "To the Palais Royal," he would have 
 suspected me. 
 
 "To the Bishop's?" 
 
 "Where else?" 
 
 "To be beaten again?" he sneered. 
 
 I said nothing to that, but asked him whither 
 he was going. 
 
 "God knows," he said. "God knows!" 
 
 But when I went out, he accompanied me ; and 
 we slunk silently, like the pair of night-birds we 
 were, through lanes and alleys until we were fairly 
 in town again. By that time the sun was up and 
 the market people were beginning to enter the city. 
 Here and there eyes took curious note of my dis- 
 order : and thinking of the company I was in, I 
 trembled, and wondered that the alarm was not 
 abroad and the bells proclaiming us from every 
 tower. I was more than content, therefore, when 
 my companion at the back of the Temple halted 
 before a small door in a blind wall. Over against 
 it stood another small door in the opposite wall. 
 
 "Do you stay here?" I said. 
 
 He swore churlishly. "What is that to you?" 
 he said, looking up and down. "Go your way, 
 idiot." 
 
 I was glad to affect a like ill-humour, shrugged 
 my shoulders, and lounged on without looking 
 back. But my brain was on fire. The King ! The 
 four-year-old King ! What was I to do? To whom 
 to go with my knowledge? And then even then,
 
 FLORE 19 
 
 while I paused hesitating, I heard steps running 
 behind me, and I turned to find him at my elbow. 
 His face was pale, but his eyes burned with eager- 
 ness, and his whole demeanour was changed. 
 
 "Stay!" he cried panting; and then seizing me 
 peremptorily by the breast of my shirt, "the man 
 who tripped you up, fellow you did not see him?" 
 
 "It was dark," I answered curtly. "I told you 
 I did not know him from Adam." 
 
 "But had he " he gasped, "you heard him run 
 away was he lame?" 
 
 I could not repress an exclamation. "Par dieu! " 
 I said. "Yes, I had forgotten that. I think he 
 was. I remember I heard his foot go cluck clack, 
 cluck clack as he ran." 
 
 His face became burning red, and he staggered. 
 If ever man was near dying from blood in his 
 head, it was that man at that moment ! But af- 
 ter, a while he drew a long breath, and got the 
 better of it, nodded to me, and turned away. I 
 marked, however for I stood a moment, watching 
 that he did not go back to the door at which 
 I had left him : but after looking round once and 
 espying me standing, he took a lane on the right 
 and disappeared. 
 
 But I knew or thought that I knew all now; 
 and the moment he was out of sight, I set off to- 
 wards the Palais Royal like a hound let loose, 
 heeding neither those against whom I bumped in 
 the straiter ways, nor the danger I ran of recog-
 
 20 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 nition, nor the miserable aspect I wore in my 
 rags. I forgot all, save my news, even my own 
 wretchedness ; and never halted or stayed to take 
 breath until I crept panting into the doorway of 
 the lodge at the Palais, and met my father-in-law's 
 look of disgust and astonishment. 
 
 He was just off the night turn, and met me on 
 the threshold. I saw beyond him the grinning 
 faces of the under-porters. But I had that 
 to tell which still upheld me. I threw up my 
 hands. 
 
 "I know where they are!" I cried breathlessly. 
 "I can take you to them!" 
 
 He gazed at me, dumb for the moment with sur- 
 prise and rage; and doubtless a less reputable 
 son-in-law than I appeared, it would have been 
 hard to find in all Paris. Then his passion found 
 vent. "Pig!" he cried. "Jackal! Gutter-bird! 
 Begone ! I have heard about you ! Begone ! or I 
 will have you flayed!" 
 
 "But I know where they are! I know where 
 they have him ! " I protested. 
 
 His face underwent a startling change. He 
 stepped forward with a nimbleness wonderful in 
 one of his bulk, and he caught me by the collar. 
 "What," he said, "have you seen the dog?" 
 
 "The dog?" I cried. "No, but I have seen the 
 King! I have held him in my arms ! I know where 
 he is." 
 
 He released me suddenly, and fell back a pace,
 
 FLORE 21 
 
 looking at me so oddly that I paused. "Say it 
 again," he said slowly. "You have held the " 
 
 "The King! The King!" I cried impatiently. 
 "In these arms. Last night ! I know where they 
 have him, or at least where the robbers are." 
 
 His double chin fell, and his fat face lost colour. 
 "Poor devil !" he said, staring at me like one fas- 
 cinated. "They have took his senses from him." 
 
 "But" I cried, advancing, " are you not going 
 to do anything?" 
 
 He waved me off, and retreating a step, crossed 
 himself. "Jacques!" he said, speaking to one of 
 the porters, but without taking his eyes off me, 
 "move him off! Move him off; do you hear, 
 man? He is not safe!" 
 
 "But I tell you," I cried fiercely, "they have 
 stolen the King ! They have stolen his Majesty, 
 and I have held him in my arms. And I 
 know " 
 
 "There, there, be calm," he answered. "Be 
 calm, my lad. They have stolen the Queen's dog, 
 that is true. But have it your own way if you 
 like, only go. Go from here, and quickly, or it will 
 be the worse for you ; for here comes Monseigneur 
 the Bishop to wait on her Majesty, and if he sees 
 you, you will suffer worse things. There, make 
 way, make way ! " he continued, turning from me to 
 the staring crowd that had assembled. " Way, for 
 Monseigneur the Bishop of Beauvais ! Make way ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the Bishop in his great coach
 
 22 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 turned heavily out of the Kue St. Honore, and 
 the crowd attending him eddied about the Palace 
 entrance. I was hustled and swept out of the way, 
 and fortunately escaping notice, found myself a 
 few minutes later crouching in a lane that runs be- 
 side the church of St. Jacques. I was wolfing a 
 crust of bread, which one of the men with whom 
 I had often talked in the lodge had thrust into 
 my hand. I ate it with tears : in all Paris, that 
 day, was no more miserable outcast. What had 
 become of my little wife I knew not ; and I dared 
 not show myself at the Bishop's to ask. My fa- 
 ther-in-law, I feared, was hardened against me, 
 and at the best thought me mad. I had no longer 
 home or friend, and this at the moment cut most 
 sharply the gorgeous hopes in which I had in- 
 dulged a few moments before were as last year's 
 snow! The King was not lost! 
 
 I crouched and shivered. In St. Antoine's, at 
 the mouth of the lane, a man was beating a drum 
 preparatory to publishing a notice ; and presently 
 his voice caught my attention in the middle of my 
 lamentations. I listened, at first idly, then with 
 my mind. "Oyez! Oyez!" he cried. "Whereas 
 some evil person, having no fear of God or of the 
 law before his eyes, has impudently, feloniously, 
 and treasonably stolen from the Palais Royal, a 
 spaniel, the property of the Queen-Regent's most 
 excellent Majesty, this is to say, that any one 
 rumble rumble rumble" here a passing coach
 
 FLORE 23 
 
 drowned some sentences after which I caught 
 "five hundred crowns, the same to be paid by 
 Monseigneur the Bishop of Beauvais, President of 
 the Council!" 
 
 "And glad to pay it," snarled a voice, quite 
 close to me. I started and looked up. Two men 
 were talking at a grated window above my head. 
 I could not see their faces. 
 
 "Yet it is a high price for a dog," the other 
 sneered. 
 
 " But low for a queen. Yet it will buy her. And 
 this is Richelieu's France!" 
 
 " Was ! " the other said pithily. " Well, you know 
 the proverb, my friend. 'A living dog is better 
 than a dead lion.' ' 
 
 "Ay," his companion rejoined, "but I have a 
 fancy that that dog's name is spelt neither with 
 an F for Flore which was the whelp's name, was 
 it not? nor a B for Beauvais ; nor a C for Conde; 
 but with an M " 
 
 "For Mazarin!" the other answered sharply. 
 "Yes, if he find the dog. But Beauvais is in 
 possession." 
 
 "Rocroy, a hit that counted for Conde shook 
 him; you may be sure of that." 
 
 "Still he is in possession." 
 
 "So is my shoe in possession of my foot," was 
 the keen reply. "And see I take it off. Beauvais 
 is tottering, I tell you ; tottering. It wants but a 
 shove, and he falls."
 
 24 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 I heard no more, for they moved from the win- 
 dow into the room; but they left me a different 
 man. It was not so much the hope of reward as 
 the desire for vengeance that urged me ; my clerk's 
 wits returned once more, and in the very despe- 
 ration of my affairs gave me the courage I some- 
 times lacked. I recognized that I had not to do 
 with a King, but a dog ; but that none the less 
 that way lay revenge. And I rose up and slunk 
 again into the main street and passed through 
 the crowd and up the Rue St. Martin and by St. 
 Merri, a dirty, ragged, barefoot rascal from whom 
 people drew their skirts; yes, all that, and the 
 light of the sun on it all that, and yet vengeance 
 itself in the body the hand that should yet drag 
 my cruel master's fauteuil from under him. 
 
 Once I halted, weighing the risks and whether 
 I should take my knowledge direct to the Cardi- 
 nal and let him make what use he pleased of it. 
 But I knew nothing definite, and hardening my 
 heart to do the work myself, I went on, until I 
 found again the alley between the blind walls 
 where I had left the dog-stealer. It was noon. 
 The alley was empty, the neighbouring lane at 
 the back of the Filles Dieu towards St. Martin's 
 was empty. I looked this way and that and slow- 
 ly went down to the door at which the man had 
 halted in his despair ; but to which, as soon as he 
 knew that the game was not lost, he had been 
 heedful not to return while I watched him.
 
 FLORE 25 
 
 There, seeing all so quiet, with the green of a 
 tree showing here and there above the dead wall, 
 I began to blench and wonder how I was to take 
 the next step. And for half an hour, I dare say, 
 I sneaked to and fro, now in sight of the door 
 and now with my back to it; afraid to advance, 
 and ashamed to retreat. At length I came once 
 more through the alley, and, seeing how quiet 
 and respectable it lay, with the upper part of a 
 house visible at intervals above the wall, I took 
 heart of grace and tried the door. 
 
 It was so firmly closed, that I despaired; and 
 after looking to assure myself that the attempt 
 had not been observed, I was going to move away, 
 when I espied the edge of a key projecting from 
 under the door. Still all was quiet. A stealthy 
 glance round, and I had out the key. To draw 
 back now was to write myself craven all my life ; 
 and with a shaking hand I thrust the wards into 
 the lock, turned them, and in another moment 
 stood on the other side of the door in a neat gar- 
 den, speckled with sunshine and shade, and where 
 all lay silent. 
 
 I remained a full minute, flattened against the 
 door, staring fearfully at the high-fronted mansion 
 that beyond the garden looked down on me with 
 twelve great eyes. But all remained quiet, and 
 observing that the windows were shuttered, I 
 took courage to move, and slid under a tree and 
 breathed again.
 
 26 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Still I looked and listened, fearfully, for the si- 
 lence seemed to watch me ; and the greenness and 
 orderliness of the place frightened me. But noth- 
 ing happened, and everything I saw went to prove 
 that the house was empty. I grew bolder then, 
 and sneaking from bush to bush, reached the door 
 and with a backward glance between courage and 
 desperation tried it. 
 
 It was locked, but I hardly noticed that; for, 
 as my hand left the latch, from some remote part 
 of the house came the long-drawn whine of a dog ! 
 
 I stood, listening and turning hot and cold in 
 the sunshine ; and dared not touch the latch again 
 lest others should hear the noise. Instead, I stole 
 out of the doorway, and crept round the house 
 and round the house again, hunting for a back 
 entrance. I found none; but at last, goaded by 
 the reflection that fortune would never again be 
 so nearly within my grasp, I marked a window 
 on the first floor, and at the side of the house; 
 by which it seemed to me that I might enter. 
 A mulberry-tree stood by it, and it lacked bars; 
 and other trees veiled the spot. To be brief, in 
 two minutes I had my knee on the sill, and, sweat- 
 ing with terror for I knew that if I were taken I 
 should hang for a thief I forced in the casement, 
 and dropped on the floor. 
 
 There I waited a while, listening. I was in a 
 bare room, the door of which stood ajar. Some- 
 where in the bowels of the house the dog whined
 
 FLOEE 27 
 
 again and again ; otherwise all was still deadly 
 still. But I had risked too much to stand now; 
 and in the end, emboldened by the silence, I crept 
 out and stole along a passage, seeking the way 
 to the lower floor. 
 
 The passage was dark, and every board on which 
 I stepped shrieked the alarm. But I felt my way 
 to the landing at the head of the stairs, and I 
 was about to descend, when some impulse, I know 
 not what perhaps a shrinking from the dark 
 parts below, to which I was about to trust myself 
 moved me to open one of the shutters and peer 
 out. 
 
 I did so, cautiously, and but a little a few inches. 
 I found myself looking, not into the garden 
 through which I had passed, but into the one over 
 the way, beyond the alley, and there on a scene 
 so strange and yet so apropos to my thoughts, 
 that I paused, gaping. 
 
 On a plat of grass four men were standing, two 
 and two; between them, with nose upraised and 
 scenting this way and that, moved a beautiful 
 curly-haired spaniel, in colour black and tan. The 
 eyes of all four men were riveted to the dog; which, 
 as I looked, walked sedately first to the one pair, 
 and then, as if dissatisfied, to the other pair ; and 
 then again stood midway and sniffed the air. 
 The men were speaking, but I could not catch 
 even their voices, and I was reduced to drawing 
 what inferences I could from their appearance. 
 
 i
 
 28 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Of the two further from me, one was my ras- 
 cally bed-fellow; the other was a crooked villain, 
 almost in rags, with a leg shorter than its com- 
 rade, yet a face bold and even handsome. Of the 
 nearer pair, who had their backs to me, the short- 
 er, dressed in black, wore the ordinary aspect of 
 a clerk, or confidential attendant; but when my 
 eyes travelled to his companion, they paused. 
 He, it was plain to me, was the chief of the party, 
 for he alone stood covered; and though I could 
 not see his face nor more of his figure than that 
 he was tall, portly, and of very handsome pres- 
 ence, it chanced that as I looked he raised his 
 hand to his chin, and I caught on his thumb, 
 which was white as a woman's, the sparkle of a 
 superb jewel. 
 
 That dazzled me, and the presence of the dog 
 puzzled me ; and I continued to watch, forgetting 
 myself. Presently the man again raised his hand, 
 and this time it seemed to me that an order was 
 given, for the lame man started into action, and 
 moved briskly across the sward towards the wall 
 which bordered the garden on my side and con- 
 sequently towards the house in which I stood. 
 Before he had moved far my companion of the 
 night interposed ; apparently he would have done 
 the errand himself. But at a word he stood sulk- 
 ily and let the other proceed; who when he had 
 all but disappeared on so little a thing my for- 
 tunes turned below the level of the intervening
 
 FLORE 29 
 
 walls, looked up and caught sight of me at the 
 window. 
 
 Apparently he gave the alarm ; for in an instant 
 the eyes of all four were on me. I hung a moment 
 in sheer surprise, too much taken aback to re- 
 treat; then, as the lame man and his comrade 
 sprang to the door in the wall with the evident 
 intention of seizing me I flung the shutter close, 
 and, cursing my curiosity, I fled down the 
 stairs. 
 
 I had done better had I gone to the window by 
 which I had entered, for all below was dark ; and 
 at the foot of the staircase, I stood, unable, in my 
 panic, to remember the position of the door. A 
 key grating in the lock informed me of this, but 
 too late. On the instant the door opened, a flood 
 of light entered, a cry warned me that I was de- 
 tected. I turned to reascend, but stumbled before 
 I had mounted six steps, and as I tried to rise, 
 felt a weight fall on my back, and the clutch of 
 long fingers close about my throat. I screamed, 
 as I felt the fingers close in a grip, deadly, cold, 
 and merciless then in sheer terror I swooned. 
 
 When I recovered my senses, I found myself 
 propped in a chair, and for a time sat wondering, 
 with an aching head, where I was. In front of me 
 a great door stood open, admitting a draught of 
 summer air, and a flood of sunshine that fell even 
 to my feet. Through the doorway I looked on 
 grass and trees, and heard sparrows twitter, and
 
 30 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the chirp of crickets; and I found all so peaceful 
 that my mind went no further, and it was only 
 after some minutes that I recognized with a sharp 
 return of terror, that turned me sick, that I was 
 still in the hall of the empty house. That brought 
 back other things, and with a shudder I carried 
 my hand to my throat and tried to rise. A hand 
 put me back, and a dry voice said in my ear, "Be 
 easy, Monsieur Prosper, be easy. You are quite 
 safe. But I am afraid that in our haste we have 
 put you to some inconvenience." 
 
 I looked with a wry face at the speaker, and 
 recognized him for one of those I had seen in the 
 garden. He had the air of a secretary or as he 
 stood rubbing his smooth chin and looking down 
 at me with a saturnine smile of a physician. I 
 read in his eyes something cold and not too hu- 
 man, yet it went no further. His manner was 
 suave, and his voice, when he spoke again, as well 
 calculated to reassure as his words were to sur- 
 prise me. 
 
 "You are better now?" he said. "Yes, then I 
 have to congratulate you on a strange chance. 
 Few men, Monsieur Prosper, few men, believe me, 
 were ever so lucky. You were lately I think in the 
 service of Monseigneur the Bishop of Beauvais, 
 President of her Majesty's Council?" 
 
 I fancied that a faint note of irony lurked in 
 his words particularly as he recited my late mas- 
 ter's titles, I kept silence.
 
 FLOKE 31 
 
 "And yesterday were dismissed," he continued 
 easily, disregarding my astonishment. "Well, 
 to-day you shall be reinstated and rewarded. 
 Your business here, I believe, was to recover her 
 Majesty's dog, and earn the reward?" 
 
 I remembered that the wretch whose finger- 
 marks were still on my throat might be within 
 hearing, and I tried to utter a denial. 
 
 He waved it aside politely. "Just so," he said. 
 "But I know your mind, better than you do 
 yourself. Well, the dog is in that closet; and on 
 two conditions it is at your service." 
 
 Amazed before, I stared at him now, in a stu- 
 por of astonishment. 
 
 "You are surprised?" he said. "Yet the case 
 is of the simplest. We stole the dog, and now 
 have our reasons for restoring it ; but we cannot 
 do so without incurring suspicion. You, on the 
 other hand, who are known to the Bishop, and 
 did not steal it, may safely restore it. I need not 
 say that we divide the reward ; that is one of the 
 two conditions." 
 
 "And the other?" I stammered. 
 
 " That you refresh your memory as to the past," 
 he answered lightly. "If I have the tale rightly, 
 you saw a man convey a dog to this house, an 
 empty house in the Montmartre Faubourg. You 
 watched, and saw the man leave, and followed 
 him ; he took the alarm, fled, and dropped in his 
 flight the dog's coat. I think I see it there. On
 
 32 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 that you hurried with the coat to Monseigneur, 
 and gave him the address of the house, and " 
 
 "And the dog!" I exclaimed. 
 
 "No. Let Monseigneur come and find the dog 
 for himself," he answered, smiling. " In the closet." 
 
 I felt the blood tingle through all my limbs. 
 "But if he comes, and does not find it?" I cried. 
 
 The stranger shrugged his shoulders. " He will 
 find it," he said coolly. And slightly raising his 
 voice, he called "Flore! Flore!" For answer a 
 dog whined behind a door, and scratched the pan- 
 els, and whined again. 
 
 The stranger nodded, and his eyes sparkled as 
 if he were pleased. "There," he said, "you have 
 it. It is there and will be there. And I think 
 that is all. Only keep two things in mind, my 
 friend. For the first, a person will claim our share 
 of the reward at the proper time : for the second, 
 I would be careful not to tell Monseigneur the 
 President of the Council" again that faint note of 
 irony "the true story, lest a worse thing hap- 
 pen !" And the stranger, with a very ugly smile, 
 touched his throat. 
 
 "I will not!" I said, shuddering. "But ?" 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "But I may not," I said faintly I hated the 
 Bishop" I may not get speech of Monseigneur. 
 May I not then take the news to the Palais Royal 
 and and let the Queen know directly? Or go 
 with it to the Cardinal?"
 
 FLORE 33 
 
 " No, you may not ! " he said, with a look and 
 in a tone that sent a shiver down my back. " The 
 Cardinal? What has the Cardinal to do with it? 
 Understand ! You must do precisely that and 
 that only which I have told you, and add not a 
 jot nor a tittle to it!" 
 
 "I will do it," I muttered in haste. My spite 
 against the Bishop was a small thing beside my 
 neck. And there was the reward ! 
 
 "Good! Then then, I think that is all," he 
 answered, seeing in my face, I think, that I was 
 minded to be obedient. "And I may say fare- 
 well. Until we meet again, adieu, Monsieur Pros- 
 per ! Adieu, and remember ! " And setting on his 
 hat with a polite gesture, he turned his back 
 to me, went out into the sunlight, passed to the 
 left, and vanished. I heard the garden door close 
 with a crash, and then, silence silence, broken only 
 by the faint whine of the dog, as it moved in its 
 prison. 
 
 Was I alone? I waited awhile before I dared to 
 move; and even when I found courage to rise, I 
 stood listening with a beating heart, expecting a 
 footfall on the stairs or that something I knew 
 not what would rush on me from the closed 
 doors of this mysterious house. But the silence 
 endured. The sparrows outside twittered, the 
 cricket renewed its chirp, and at length, drawing 
 courage from the sunlight, I moved forward and 
 lifted the dog's coat from the floor. I examined 
 
 3
 
 84 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 it : it was the one I had seen in the possession of 
 the man in the shed. Five minutes later I was in 
 the streets on my way to the Bishop's hotel, the 
 parcel of velvet tucked under my girdle. 
 
 I have since thought that I did not fully ap- 
 preciate at the moment the marvel that had hap- 
 pened to me. But by this time in truth I was 
 nearly light-headed. I went my way as a man 
 moves in a dream, and even when I found my- 
 self at the door of the hotel, whence I had been 
 so cruelly ejected, I felt none of those qualms 
 which must have shaken me had I been sensible. 
 I did not even question how I should reach Mon- 
 seigneur, or get the news to him : which proves 
 that we often delude ourselves with vain fears, 
 and climb obstacles where none exist. For, as it 
 happened, he was descending from his coach when 
 I entered the yard, and though he raised his gold- 
 headed staff at sight of me, and in a fury bade 
 the servants put me out, I had the passion if not 
 the wit to wave the velvet coat in his face, and 
 cry my errand before them all. 
 
 Heaven knows at that there was such a sud- 
 den pause and about-face as must have made 
 even the stolen dog laugh had it been there. Mon- 
 seigneur in high excitement bade them bring me 
 in to him as soon as he was shifted, the secretary 
 whispered in my ear that he had a cloak that 
 would replace the one I had lost, a valet told me 
 that my wife was gone to her father's, a serving-
 
 FLOEE 35 
 
 man brought me food, and nudged me to remem- 
 ber him, while others ran and fetched me shoes 
 and a cap; and all all from the head-clerk, who 
 was most insistent, downwards, would know where 
 the dog was, and how I came to know what I 
 did. 
 
 But I had even then the sense to keep my secret, 
 and would tell my story only to the Bishop. He 
 had me in, and heard it. In ten minutes he was 
 in his coach on his way to the Montmartre Fau- 
 bourg, taking me with him. 
 
 His presence and the food they had given me 
 while I waited had sobered me somewhat; and I 
 trembled as we went lest the man who had spared 
 me on terms so strange had some disappointment 
 yet in store for me, lest the closet be found emp- 
 ty. But a whine, that grew into a long and mel- 
 ancholy howl, greeted us on the threshold of the 
 room whither I led them ; and the closet door be- 
 ing forced, in a trice the dog was out and amongst 
 us. 
 
 Monseigneur clapped his hands and swore freely. 
 "Dieu benisse!" he cried. "It is the dog, sure 
 enough! Here, Flore! Flore!" And as the dog 
 jumped on us and licked his hand, he turned to 
 me. " Lucky for you, rascal!" he cried, in great 
 good humour. "There shall be fifty crowns in 
 your pocket, and your desk again ! " 
 
 I gasped. "But the reward, Monseigneur?" I 
 stammered. "The five hundred crowns?"
 
 36 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 He bent his black eyebrows. " Reward ? Reward, 
 villain?" he thundered. "Do I hear aright? Is 
 it not enough that I spare you the gallows you 
 richly earned but yesterday by assaulting my ser- 
 vant? Reward? For what do I pay you wages, 
 do you think, except to do my work? Are you 
 not my servant? Go and hang yourself! Or 
 rather," he continued grimly, "stir at your peril. 
 Look to him, Bonnivet, he is a rogue in grain; 
 and bring him with me to the Queen's ante-cham- 
 ber, Her Majesty may desire to ask him ques- 
 tions, and if he answer them well and handsomely, 
 good ! He shall have the fifty crowns I promised 
 him. If not I shall know how to deal with him." 
 
 At that, and the mean treachery of his conduct, 
 I fell into my old rage again, and even his ser- 
 vants looked oddly at him, until a sharp word 
 recalled them to their duty; on which they hus- 
 tled me off with little ceremony, and the less for 
 that which they had before showed me. While the 
 Bishop, carrying the dog in his arms, mounted 
 his coach and went by the Rue St. Martin and 
 the Lombards, they hurried me by short cuts and 
 byways to the Palais Royal, which we reached as 
 his running footman came in sight. The approach 
 to the gate was blocked by a great crowd of peo- 
 ple, and for a moment I was fond enough to im- 
 agine that they had to do with our affair and I 
 shrank back. But the steward, with a thrust of 
 his knee against my hip, which showed me that
 
 FLORE 37 
 
 he had not forgotten my assault upon him, urged 
 me forward, and from what passed round me as 
 we pushed through the press, I gathered that a 
 score of captured colours had arrived from Flan- 
 ders within the hour, and were about to be pre- 
 sented to the Queen. 
 
 The courtyard confirmed this, for in the open 
 part of it, and much pressed upon by the curious 
 who thronged the arcades, we found a troop of 
 horse, plumed and dusty and travel-stained, fresh 
 from the Flanders road. The officers who bore 
 the trophies we overtook on the stairs near the 
 door of the ante-chamber. Burning with resent- 
 ment as I was, and strung to the last pitch of ex- 
 citement, I none the less remember that I thought 
 it an odd time to push in with a dog; but Mon- 
 seigneur the Bishop did not seem to see this. 
 Whether he took a certain pleasure in belittling 
 the war-party, to whom he was opposed in his 
 politics, or merely knew his ground well, he went 
 on, thrusting the militaires aside with little cere- 
 mony; and as every one was as quick to give 
 place to him, as he was to advance, in a mo- 
 ment we were in the ante-chamber. 
 
 I had never been admitted before, and from the 
 doorway, where I paused in Bonnivet's keeping, 
 I viewed the scene with an interest that for the 
 first time overcame my sense of injustice. The 
 long room hummed with talk ; a crowd of church- 
 men and pages, with a sprinkling of the lesser no-
 
 88 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 bility, many lawyers and some soldiers, filled it 
 from end to end. In one corner were a group of 
 tradesmen bearing plate for the Queen's inspection : 
 in another stood a knot of suitors with petitions ; 
 while everywhere men, whose eager faces and ex- 
 pectant eyes were their best petitions, watched the 
 farther door with quivering lips, or sighed when 
 it opened, and emitted merely a councillor or a 
 marquis. Several times a masked lady flitted 
 through the crowd, with a bow here and the 
 honour of her taper fingers there. The windows 
 were open, the summer air entered ; and the mur- 
 mur of the throng without, mingling with the stir 
 of talk within, seemed to add to the light and 
 colour of the room. 
 
 My lord of Beauvais, with his chaplain and his 
 pages at his shoulder, was making in his stately 
 way towards the farther door, when he met M. de 
 Chateauneuf, and paused to speak. When he es- 
 caped from him a dozen clients, whose obsequious 
 bows rendered evasion impossible, still delayed 
 him. And I had grown cold, and hot again, and he 
 was but halfway on his progress up the crowded 
 room, when the inner door opened, half a dozen 
 voices cried "The Queen! The Queen!" and an 
 usher with a silver wand passed down the room 
 and ranked the company on either side not with- 
 out some struggling, and once a fierce oath, and 
 twice a smothered outcry. 
 
 Of the bevy of ladies in attendance, only half a
 
 FLOfcE 39 
 
 dozen entered ; for a few paces within the doorway 
 the Queen-Mother stood still to receive my patron, 
 who had advanced to meet her. It seemed to me 
 that she was not best pleased to see him at that 
 moment ; her voice rang somewhat loud and peev- 
 ish as she said, "What, my lord! Is it you? I 
 came to receive the trophies from Rocroy, and 
 did not expect to see you at this hour." 
 
 "I bring my own excuse, Madam," he answered, 
 smiling and unabashed. " Have I your Majesty's 
 leave to present it?" he continued, with a smirk 
 and a low bow. 
 
 "I came to receive the colours," she retorted, 
 still frowning. It seemed to me that he presumed 
 a trifle on his favour ; and either knew his ground 
 particularly well, or was more obtuse than a clever 
 man should have been. 
 
 For he did not blench. "I bring your Majesty 
 something as much to your liking as the col- 
 ours!" he replied. 
 
 Then I think she caught his meaning, for her 
 proud Hapsburg face cleared wonderfully, and she 
 clapped her hands together with a gesture of pleas- 
 ure almost childish. "What!" she exclaimed. 
 "Have you found Flore?" 
 
 "Yes, Madam," he said, smiling gallantly. He 
 turned. "Bonnivet!" he said. 
 
 But Bonnivet had watched his moment. Before 
 the name fell clear of his master's lips, he was be- 
 side him, and with bent knee laid the dog tenderly
 
 40 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 at her Majesty's feet. She uttered a cry of joy 
 and stooped to caress it, her fair ringlets falling 
 and hiding her face and her plump white shoul- 
 ders. On that I did not see exactly what happened ; 
 for her ladies flocked round her, and all that 
 reached me, where I stood by the door, took the 
 form of excited cries of "Flore! Fh>re!" "Oh, 
 the darling ! " and the like. A few old men who 
 stood nearest the wall and farthest from the 
 Queen raised their eyebrows, and the officers stand- 
 ing with the colours by the door, wore fallen faces 
 and glum looks; but nine-tenths of the crowd 
 seemed to be carried away by the Queen's de- 
 light, and congratulated one another as warmly 
 as if ten Eocroys had been won. 
 
 At that moment, while I hung in suspense, ex- 
 pecting each moment to be called forward, I heard 
 a little stir at my elbow. Turning I had ad- 
 vanced some way into the room I found myself 
 with others pushed aside to give place to a per- 
 son of consequence who was entering ; and I heard 
 several voices whisper, "Mazarin!" As I looked, 
 he came in, and pausing to speak to the foremost 
 of the officers, gave me the opportunity which I 
 had never enjoyed before of viewing him near at 
 hand. He bore a certain likeness, to my lord of 
 Beauvais, being tall and of a handsome and portly 
 figure. But it was such a likeness when I looked 
 a second time, as a jewelled lanthorn, lit within, 
 bears to its vacant fellow. And then in a moment
 
 FLOKE 41 
 
 it flashed upon me though now he wore his Car- 
 dinal's robes and then had been very simply 
 dressed that it was he whose back I had seen, 
 and whose dazzling thumb-ring had blinded me in 
 the garden near the Filles Dieu. 
 
 The thought had scarcely grown to a conviction 
 before he passed by me, apologizing almost hum- 
 bly to those whom he displaced, and courteously 
 to all; and this, and perhaps also the fact that 
 the mass of those present belonged to my pa- 
 tron's party who in the streets had the nickname 
 of " The Importants" so that they were not quick 
 to make room for him, rendered his progress so 
 slow that, my name being called and everybody 
 hustling me forward, I came face to face with the 
 Queen almost at the moment that he did. And 
 so I saw though for a while I was too much ex- 
 cited to understand what passed. 
 
 Her Majesty, it seemed to me, did not look un- 
 kindly upon him. On the contrary. But my lord 
 of Beauvais was so full of his success, and so up- 
 lifted by the presence of his many friends, that he 
 had a mind to make the most of his triumph and 
 even to flaunt it in his rival's face. "Ha, the 
 Cardinal ! " he cried ; and before the Queen could 
 speak, "I hope," with a bow and a simper, 
 "that your Eminence has been as zealous in her 
 Majesty's service as I have been." 
 
 "As zealous, assuredly," the Cardinal replied 
 meekly. "For my zeal I can answer. But as
 
 42 IN KINGS* BYWAYS 
 
 effective? Alas, it is not given to all to vie with 
 your Lordship in affairs." 
 
 This answer though I detected no smack of 
 irony in the tone did not seem to please the 
 Queen. " The Bishop has done me a great service. 
 He has recovered my dog," she said tartly. 
 
 " He is a happy man, and the happy must look 
 to be envied," the Cardinal answered glibly. 
 "Your Majesty's dog " 
 
 "Your Eminence never liked Flore!" the Queen 
 exclaimed with feeling. And she tossed her head, 
 as I have seen quite common women do it in the 
 street. 
 
 "You do me a very great wrong, Madam !" the 
 Cardinal answered, with the look of a man much 
 hurt. "If the dog were here but it is not, I 
 think." 
 
 "Your Eminence is for once at a loss!" the 
 Bishop said, with a sneer; and at a word from 
 him one of the ladies came forward, nursing the 
 dog in her arms. 
 
 The Cardinal looked. "Umph," he said. He 
 looked again, frowning. 
 
 I did not know then that, whether the Queen 
 liked him or disliked him, she ever took heed of 
 his looks ; and I started when she cried pettishly 
 
 "Well, sir, what now? What is it?" 
 
 The Cardinal pursed up his lips. 
 
 My lord the Bishop could bear it no longer. 
 
 "He will say presently," he cried, snorting with
 
 FLORE 43 
 
 indignation, " that it is not the dog ! It is that his 
 Eminence would say," with a sneer, "if he dared !" 
 
 His Eminence shrugged his shoulders very slight- 
 ly, and turned the palms of his hands outwards. 
 "Oh," he said, "if her Majesty is satisfied I am." 
 
 "M'dieu! " the Queen cried, with a spirt of anger 
 "what do you mean?" But she turned to the 
 lady who held the dog, and took it from her. " It 
 is the dog!" she said, her colour high. "Do you 
 think that I do not know my own dog?" she 
 continued. And she set the dog on its feet. She 
 called it "Flore! Flore!" It turned to her and 
 wagged its tail eagerly, and jumped upon her 
 skirts, and licked her hand. 
 
 "Poor Flore!" said the Cardinal. "Flore!" 
 It went to him. 
 
 "Certainly its name is Flore," he said: yet he 
 continued to scan it with a puzzled eye. "It is 
 the dog, I suppose. But it used to die at the 
 word of command, I think?" 
 
 "What it did, it will do !" Monseigneur de Beau- 
 vais cried scornfully. "But I see that your Emi- 
 nence was right in one thing you said." 
 
 The Cardinal bowed. 
 
 " That I should be envied ! " the Bishop retorted, 
 with a sneer. And he glanced round the circle. 
 There was a slight though general titter ; a great 
 lady at the Queen's elbow laughed out. 
 
 "Flore," said the Queen, "die! Die, good dog. 
 Do you hear, m'dieu! die!"
 
 44 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 But the dog only gazed into her Majesty's face 
 with a spaniel's soft affectionate eyes, and wagged 
 its tail; and though she cried to it again and 
 again, and angrily, it made no attempt to obey. 
 On that a deep-drawn breath ran round the cir- 
 cle ; one looked at another ; and there were raised 
 eyebrows. A score of heads were thrust forward, 
 and some who had seemed merry enough the mo- 
 ment before looked grave as mutes now. 
 
 "It used to bark for France and growl for 
 Spain," the Cardinal continued in his softest voice. 
 "One of the charmingest things, madam, I ever 
 saw. Perhaps if your Majesty would try " 
 
 "France!" the Queen cried imperiously; and 
 she stamped on the floor. "France! France!" 
 
 But the dog only retreated, cowering and dis- 
 mayed. From a distance it wagged its tail piti- 
 fully. 
 
 " France ! " cried the Queen, almost with passion. 
 The dog cowered. 
 
 " I am afraid, my Lord, that it has lost its ac- 
 complishments in your company!" the Cardinal 
 said, a faint smile curling his lips. 
 
 The Bishop dropped a smothered oath. "It is 
 the dog!" he cried vehemently. 
 
 But the Queen turned to him sharply, her face 
 crimson. 
 
 "I do not agree with you !" she replied. "It is 
 like the dog, but it is not the dog. And more, my 
 Lord," she continued, with vehemence equal to his
 
 FLORE 45 
 
 own, "I should be glad if you would explain how 
 you came into possession of this dog. A dog so 
 nearly resembling my dog and yet not my dog 
 could not be found in a moment nor without 
 some foul contrivance." 
 
 "It has forgotten its tricks," the Bishop said. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " the Queen retorted. 
 
 A great many faces had grown grave by this 
 time ; I have said that the room was filled for the 
 most part with the Bishop's supporters. "At 
 any rate I know nothing about it !" he exclaimed, 
 wiping his brow and pointing to me. "I offered a 
 reward, and that knave there found the dog." 
 Between anger and discomfiture he stammered. 
 
 "One of my Lord's servants, I think," the Car- 
 dinal said easily. 
 
 "Oh!" the Queen answered, with a world of 
 meaning; and she looked at me with eyes before 
 which I quailed. "Is that true, fellow!" she said. 
 "Are you in my Lord's service?" 
 
 I stammered an affirmative. 
 
 "Then I wish to hear no more," she replied 
 haughtily. "No, my Lord. Enough!" she con- 
 tinued, raising her voice to drown his protesta- 
 tions. "I do not care to know whether you were 
 more sinned against than sinning; or a greater 
 fool than your creature is a knave. Pray take 
 your animal away. Doubtless in a very short 
 time I should have discovered the cheat for my- 
 self. I think I see a difference now. I am sure I
 
 46 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 do. But, as it is, I am greatly indebted to his 
 Eminence for his aid and his sagacity." 
 
 She brought out the last word with withering 
 emphasis, and amid profound silence. The Bishop, 
 staggered and puzzled, but too wise to persist 
 longer in the dog's identity, still tried desperately 
 to utter some word of excuse; but the Queen, 
 whose vanity had received a serious wound since 
 she had not at once known her own pet cut him 
 short with a curt and freezing dismissal, and im- 
 mediately turning to the Cardinal, she requested 
 him to introduce to her the officers who had the 
 colours in charge. 
 
 It may be imagined how I felt, and what ter- 
 rors I experienced during this struggle; since it 
 required no great wit to infer that the Bishop, if 
 defeated, would wreak his vengeance on me. Al- 
 ready a dozen who had attended my Lord of 
 Beauvais' levee that morning were fawning on the 
 Cardinal; the Queen had turned her shoulder to 
 him ; a great lady over whom he bent to hide his 
 chagrin, talked to him indeed, but flippantly, and 
 with eyes half closed and but part of her attention. 
 For all these slights, and the defeat which they 
 indicated, I foresaw that I should pay with my 
 life : and in a panic, seeing no hope but in escap- 
 ing on the instant before he took his measures, I 
 slid back and strove to steal away through the 
 crowd. 
 
 I reached the door in safety, and even the head
 
 FLORE 47 
 
 of the stairs. But there a hand gripped my 
 shoulder, and the steward thrust a face, white 
 with rage and dismay, into mine. "Not so fast, 
 Master Plotter ! " he hissed in my ear. " You have 
 ruined us, but if your neck does not pay for this 
 if you are not lashed like a dog first and hung 
 afterwards I am a Spaniard ! If for this I do 
 not " 
 
 "By the Queen's command," said a quiet voice 
 in my other ear ; and a hand fell on that shoulder 
 also. 
 
 The steward glanced at his rival. "He is the 
 Bishop's man ! " he cried, throwing out his chest ; 
 and he gripped me again. 
 
 " And the Bishop is the Queen's!" was the curt 
 and pithy reply ; and the stranger, in whom I rec- 
 ognized the man who had delivered the dog's 
 cape to me, quietly put him by. "Her Majesty 
 has committed this person to the Cardinal's cus- 
 tody until inquiry be made into the truth of his 
 story, and the persons who are guilty be ascer- 
 tained. In the mean time, if you have any com- 
 plaint to make you can make it to his Eminence." 
 
 After that there was no more to be said or 
 done. The steward, baffled and bursting with rage, 
 fell back ; and the stranger, directing me by a ges- 
 ture to attend him close, descended the stairs and 
 crossing the courtyard, entered St. Honore. I 
 was in a maze what I was to expect from him ; and 
 overjoyed as I was at my present deliverance, had
 
 48 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 a sneaking fear that I might be courting a worse 
 fate in this inquiry ; so grim and secretive was my 
 guide's face, and so much did that sombre dress 
 which gave him somewhat of the character of an 
 inquisitor add to the weight of his silence. How- 
 ever, when he had crossed St. Honore and entered 
 a lane leading to the river, he halted and turned 
 to me. 
 
 "There are twenty crowns," he said abruptly; 
 and he placed a purse in my hand. "Take them, 
 and do exactly as I bid you, and all will be well. 
 At the Quai de Notre Dame you will find a mar- 
 ket-boat starting for Rouen. Go by it, and at 
 the Ecce Homo in the Rue St. Eloi in that city 
 you will find your wife and a hundred crowns. 
 Live there quietly, and in a month apply for work 
 at the Chancery; it will be given you. The rest 
 lies with you. I have known men," he continued, 
 with a puzzling smile, "who started at a desk in 
 that Chancery and, being very silent men, able to 
 keep a secret able to keep a secret, mark you 
 lived to rent one of the great farms." 
 
 I tried to find words to thank him. 
 
 "There is no need," he said. "For what you 
 have done, it is too much. For what you have 
 to do rule the unruly member it is no more than 
 is right." 
 
 And now I agree with him. Now though his 
 words came true to the letter, and to-day I hold 
 one of the great farms on a second term I too
 
 FLORE 49 
 
 think that it was no more than was right. For 
 if M. de Conde won Rocroy for his side in the 
 field, the Cardinal on that day won a victory no 
 less eminent at court ; of which victory the check 
 administered to M. de Beauvais who had nothing 
 but a good presence, and collapsing like a pricked 
 bladder, became within a month the most dis- 
 credited of men was the first movement. Within 
 a month the heads of the Importants so, I have 
 said, the Bishop's party were christened were in 
 prison or exiled or purchased ; and all France knew 
 that it lay in a master's hand knew that the man- 
 tle of Richelieu, with a double portion of the royal 
 favour, had fallen on Mazarin's shoulders. I need 
 scarcely add that, before that fact became known 
 to all for such things do not become certainties 
 in a minute his Eminence had been happy enough 
 to find the true Flore and restore it to her Ma- 
 jesty's arms. 
 4
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE. 
 
 ON a certain wet night, in the spring of the year 
 1587, the rain was doing its utmost to sweeten 
 the streets of old Paris : the kennels were aflood 
 with it, and the March wind, which caused the 
 crowded signboards to creak and groan on their 
 bearings, and ever and anon closed a shutter with 
 the sound of a pistol-shot, blew the downpour in 
 sheets into exposed doorways, and drenched to 
 the skin the few wayfarers who were abroad. Here 
 and there a stray dog, bent over a bone, slunk 
 away at the approach of a roisterer's footstep; 
 more rarely a passenger, whose sober or stealthy 
 gait whispered of business rather than pleasure, 
 moved cowering from street to street, under such 
 shelter as came in his way. 
 
 About two hours before midnight, a man issued 
 somewhat suddenly from the darkness about the 
 head of the Pont du Change and turned the corner 
 into the Hue de St. Jacques la Boucherie, a street 
 which ran parallel with the Quays, about half 
 a mile east of the Louvre. His heavy cloak con- 
 cealed his figure, but he made his way in the teeth 
 of the wind with the spring and vigour of youth ; 
 and arriving presently at a doorway, which had 
 the air of retiring modestly under a couple of
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 51 
 
 steep dark gables, and yet was rendered conspicu- 
 ous by the light which shone through the un- 
 glazed grating above it, he knocked sharply on 
 the oak. After a short delay the door slid open 
 of itself and the man entered. He showed none 
 of a stranger's surprise at the invisibility of the 
 porter, but after staying to shut the door, he ad- 
 vanced along a short passage, which was only 
 partially closed at the further end by a high 
 wooden screen. Coasting round this he entered a 
 large low-roofed room, lighted in part by a dozen 
 candles, in part by a fire which burned on a raised 
 iron plate in the corner. 
 
 The air was thick with wood smoke, but the oc- 
 cupants of the room, a dozen men, seated, some 
 at a long table, and some here and there in pairs, 
 seemed able to recognize the new-comer through it, 
 and hailed his appearance with a cry of welcome 
 a cry that had in it a ring of derision. One 
 man who stood near the fire, impatiently kicking 
 the logs with his spurred boots, turned, and seeing 
 who it was moved towards him. "Welcome, M. 
 de Bazan," he said briskly; "so you have come 
 to resume our duel! I had given up hope of 
 you." 
 
 " I am here/' the new-comer answered. He spoke 
 curtly, and as he did so he took off his horseman's 
 cloak and laid it aside. The action disclosed a 
 man scarcely twenty, moderately well dressed, 
 and of slight though supple figure. His face wore
 
 52 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 an air of determination singular in one so young, 
 and at variance with the quick suspicious glances 
 with which he took in the scene. He did not 
 waste time in staring, however, but quickly and 
 with a business-like air he seated himself at a 
 small wooden table which stood in a warm corner 
 of the hearth, and directly under a brace of can- 
 dles. Calling for a bottle of wine, he threw a bag 
 of coin on the table ; at the same time he hitched 
 forward his sword until the pommel of the weapon 
 lay across his left thigh; a sinister movement 
 which the debauched and reckless looks of some 
 of his companions seemed to justify. The man 
 who had addressed him took his seat opposite, 
 and the two, making choice of a pair of dice-boxes, 
 began to play. 
 
 They did not use the modern game of hazard, 
 but simply cast the dice, each taking it in turn to 
 throw, and a nick counting as a drawn battle. 
 The two staked sums higher than were usual in 
 the company about them, and one by one, the 
 other gamblers forsook their tables, and came 
 and stood round. As the game proceeded, the 
 young stranger's face grew more and more pale, 
 his eyes more feverish. But he played in silence. 
 Not so his backers. A volley of oaths and excla- 
 mations almost as thick as the wood smoke that 
 in part shrouded the game, began to follow each 
 cast of the dice. The air, one moment still and 
 broken only by the hollow rattle of the dice in
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 53 
 
 the box, rang the next instant with the fierce out- 
 burst of a score of voices. 
 
 The place, known as Simon's, was a gaming- 
 'house of the second class : frequented, as the 
 shabby finery of some and the tarnished arms of 
 others seemed to prove, by the poorer courtiers and 
 the dubious adventurers who live upon the great. 
 It was used in particular by the Guise faction, at 
 this time in power; for though Henry of Yalois 
 was legal and nominal King of France, Henry of 
 Guise, the head of the League, and the darling of 
 Paris, imposed his will alike upon the King and the 
 favourites. He enjoyed the substance of power; 
 the King had no choice but to submit to his 
 policy. In secret Henry the Third resented the po- 
 sition, and between his immediate servants and 
 the arrogant followers of the Guises there was 
 bitter enmity. 
 
 As the game proceeded, a trifle showed that the 
 young player was either ignorant of politics, or 
 belonged to a party rarely represented at Simon's. 
 For some time he and his opponent had enjoyed 
 equal luck. Then they doubled the stakes, and 
 fortune immediately declared herself against him ; 
 with wondrous quickness his bag grew lank and 
 thin, the pile at the other's elbow a swollen slid- 
 ing heap. The perspiration began to stand on the 
 young man's face. His hand trembled as he shook 
 out the last coins left in the bag and shoved them 
 forward amid a murmur half of derision half of
 
 54 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 sympathy; for if he was a stranger from the 
 country that was plain, and they had recognized 
 it at his first appearance among them three days 
 before at least he played bravely. His opponent, 
 whose sallow face betrayed neither joy nor tri- 
 umph, counted out an equal sum, and pushed it 
 forward without a word. The young man took 
 up the box, and for the first time seemed to hesi- 
 tate; it could be seen that he had bitten his lip 
 until it bled. "After you," he muttered at last, 
 withdrawing his hand. He shrank from throwing 
 his last throw. 
 
 '"It is your turn," the other replied impassively, 
 "but as you will." He shook the box, brought 
 it down sharply on the table and raised it. 
 "The Duke!" he said with an oath he had 
 thrown the highest possible. "Twelve is the 
 game." 
 
 With a shiver the lad he was little more than a 
 lad, though in his heart, perhaps, the greatest 
 gambler present dashed down his box. He raised 
 it. "The King!" he cried; "long life to him!" 
 He had also thrown twelve. His cheek flushed a 
 rosy red, and with a player's superstitious belief 
 in his luck he regarded the check given to his op- 
 ponent in the light of a presage of victory. They 
 threw again, and he won by two points nine to 
 seven. Hurrah ! 
 
 "King or Duke," the tall man answered, re- 
 straining by a look the interruption which more
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 55 
 
 than one of the bystanders seemed about to offer, 
 "the money is yours; take it." 
 '"Let it lie," the young man answered joyously. 
 His eyes sparkled. When the other had pushed an 
 equal amount into the middle of the table, he 
 threw again, and with confidence. 
 
 Alas! his throw was a deuce and an ace. The 
 elder player threw four and two. He swept up 
 the pile. " Better late than never," he said. And 
 leaning back he looked about him with a grin of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The young man rose. The words which had 
 betrayed that he was not of the Duke's faction, 
 had cost him the sympathy the spectators had 
 before felt for him; and no one spoke. It was 
 something that they kept silence, that they did 
 not interfere with him. His face, pale in the light 
 of the candles which burned beside him, was a 
 picture of despair. Suddenly, as if he bethought 
 him of something, he sat down again, and with 
 a shaking hand took from his neck a slender gold 
 chain with a pendant ornament. "Will you stake 
 against this?" he murmured with dry lips. 
 
 "Against that, or your sword, or your body, 
 or anything but your soul!" the other answered 
 with a reckless laugh. He took up the chain and 
 examined it. "I will set you thirty crowns against 
 it !" he said. 
 
 They threw and the young man lost. 
 
 "I will stake ten crowns against your sword if
 
 56 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 you like," the victor continued, eyeing the curi- 
 ously chased pommel. 
 
 "No," the young man replied, stung by some- 
 thing in the elder's tone. "That I may want. 
 But I will set my life against yours!" 
 
 A chuckle went round. "Bravo!" cried half a 
 dozen voices. One man in the rear, whose busi- 
 ness it was to enlist men in the Duke's guard, 
 pressed forward, scenting a recruit. 
 
 " Your life against mine ! With these?" the win- 
 ner answered, holding up the dice. 
 
 "Yes, or as you please." He had not indeed 
 meant with those : he had spoken in the soreness 
 of defeat, intending a challenge. 
 
 The other shook his head. "No," he said, "no. 
 No man can say that Michel Berthaud ever balked 
 his player, but it is not a fair offer. You have 
 lost all, my friend, and I have won all. I am 
 rich, you are poor. 'Tis no fair stake. But I will 
 tell you what I will do. I will set you your gold 
 chain and seventy crowns against your life if you 
 like." 
 
 A roar of laughter hailed the proposal. "A 
 hundred!" cried several, "a hundred!" 
 
 "Very well. The gold chain and a hundred. 
 Be it so!" 
 
 "But my life?" the young man muttered, gaz- 
 ing at him in bewilderment. " Of what use will it 
 be to you, M. Berthaud?" 
 
 "That is my business," was the dry answer.
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 57 
 
 " If you lose, it is forfeit to me. That is all, and 
 the long and the short of it. To be frank, I have 
 a service which I wish you to perform for me." 
 
 "And if I will not perform it?" 
 
 "Then I will take your word as a gentleman 
 that you will kill yourself. Observe, however, that 
 if I win I shall allow you a choice, my friend." 
 
 He leaned back with that, meeting with a faint 
 smile and half-lowered eye-lids, the various looks 
 bent on him. Some stared, some nodded secret 
 comprehension, some laughed outright, or nudged 
 one another and whispered. For four evenings 
 they, the habitues of the place, had watched this 
 play duel go on, but they had not looked for an 
 end so abnormal as this. They had known men 
 stake wives and mistresses, love and honour, ay, 
 their very clothes, and go home naked through 
 the streets; for the streets of Paris saw strange 
 things in those days. But life? Well, even that 
 they had seen men stake in effect, once, twice, a 
 hundred times ; but never in so many words, never 
 on a wager as novel as this. So with an amaze- 
 ment which no duel, fought as was the custom 
 in that day, three to three, or six to six, would 
 have evoked, they gathered round the little table 
 under the candles and waited for the issue. 
 
 The young man shivered. Then, "I accept," he 
 said slowly. In effect he was desperate, driven to 
 his last straits. He had lost his all, the all of a 
 young man sent up to Paris to make his fortune,
 
 58 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 with a horse, his sword, and a bag of crowns 
 the latter saved for him by a father's stern fru- 
 gality, a mother's tender self-denial. A week ago 
 he had never seen a game of chance. Then he had 
 seen ; the dice had fallen in his way, the devil of 
 play, cursed legacy of some long-forgotten ances- 
 tor, had awoke within him, and this was the end. 
 "I accept," he said slowly. 
 
 His opponent, still with his secretive smile, took 
 up the caster. But a short, sturdy man, who was 
 standing at his elbow, and who wore the colours 
 of the Duke of Guise, intervened. "No, Michel," 
 he said, with a good-natured glance at the young 
 player. " Let the lad choose his bones, and throw 
 first or last as he pleases." 
 
 "Eight," said Berthaud, yawning. "It is no 
 matter. My star is in the ascendant to-night. 
 He will not win." 
 
 The young man took up the box, shook it, hes- 
 itated, swallowed, and threw seven ! 
 
 Berthaud threw carelessly seven ! 
 
 Some shouted, some drew a deep breath, or 
 whispered an oath. These wild spirits, who had 
 faced death often in one form or another, were 
 still children, and still in a new thing found a 
 new pleasure. 
 
 "Your star may be in the ascendant," the man 
 muttered who had intervened before, "but it 
 well, it twinkles, Michel." 
 
 Berthaud did not answer. The young man
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 59 
 
 made him a sign to throw. He threw again 
 eight. 
 
 The young man threw with a hand that scarcely 
 dared to let the dice go. Seven I He had lost. 
 
 An outburst might have been expected, some cry 
 of violence, of despair. It did not come. And a 
 murmur passed round the circle. "Berthaud will 
 recruit him," growled one. "A queer game," 
 muttered another, and thought hard. Nor did the 
 men go back to their tables. They waited to see 
 what would follow, what would come of it. For 
 the young man who had lost sat staring at the 
 table like one in a dream ; until presently his op- 
 ponent reaching out a hand touched his sleeve. 
 "Courage!" Berthaud said, a flicker of triumph 
 in his eye, "a word with you aside. No need of 
 despair, man. You have but to do what I ask, 
 and you will see sixty yet." 
 
 Obedient to his gesture the young man rose, and 
 the other drawing him aside began to talk to him 
 in a low voice. The remaining players loitering 
 about the deserted table could not hear what was 
 said ; but one or two by feigning to strike a sud- 
 den blow, seemed to pass on their surmises to 
 those round them. One thing was clear. The lad 
 objected to the proposal made, objected fiercely 
 and with vehemence; and at last submitted only 
 with reluctance. Submit in the end, however, he 
 did, for after some minutes of this private talk 
 he went to his cloak 3 and avoiding, as it seemed,
 
 60 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 his fellows' eyes, put it on. Berthaud accompanied 
 him to the door, and the winner's last words 
 were audible. "That is all," he said; "succeed in 
 what I impose, M. de Bazan, and I cry quits, and 
 you shall have fifty crowns for your pains. Fail, 
 and you will but be paying your debt. But you 
 will not fail. Remember, half an hour after mid- 
 night. And courage!" 
 
 The young man nodded sullenly, and drawing 
 his cloak about his throat, went through the pas- 
 sage to the street. The night was a little older 
 than when he had entered, otherwise it was un- 
 changed. The rain was still falling ; the wind still 
 buffeted the creaking shutters and the swinging 
 sign-boards. But the man? He had entered, 
 thinking nothing of rain or wind, thinking little 
 even of the horse and furniture, and the^good 
 clothes made under his mother's eye, which he 
 had sacrificed to refill his purse. The warmth of 
 the play fever coursing through his veins had clad 
 him in proof against cold and damp and the de- 
 pression of the gloomy streets, even against the 
 thought of home. And for the good horse, and 
 the laced shirts and the gold braid, the luck could 
 not run against him again ! He would win all 
 back, and the crowns to boot. 
 
 So he had thought as he went in. And now? 
 He stood a moment in the dark, narrow chasm 
 of a street, and looked up, letting the rain cool 
 his brow ; looked up, and, seeing a wrack of clouds
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 61 
 
 moving swiftly across the slit of stormy sky vis- 
 ible between the overhanging roofs, faced in a 
 dull amazement the fact that he who now stood 
 in the darkness, bankrupt even in life, was the 
 same man who had entered Paris so rich in hope 
 and youth and life a week only a week before. 
 He remembered it was an odd thing to occur to 
 him when his thoughts should have been full of 
 the events of the last hour a fault of which he 
 had been guilty down there in the country; and 
 of which, taking advantage of a wrathful father's 
 offer to start him in Paris, he had left the weaker 
 sinner to bear the brunt. And it seemed to him 
 that here was his punishment. The old grey 
 house at home, quaint and weather-beaten, rose 
 before him. He saw his mother's herb-garden, 
 the great stackyard, and the dry moat, half filled 
 with blackberry bushes, in which he had played 
 as a boy. And on him fell a strange calm, be- 
 tween apathy and resignation. This, then, was 
 his punishment. He would bear it like a man. 
 There should be no flinching a second time, no 
 putting the burden on others' shoulders, no self- 
 sparing at another's cost. 
 
 He started to walk briskly in the direction of 
 the Louvre. But when he had gained the corner 
 of the open space in front of the palace, whence 
 he had a view of the main gate between the two 
 tennis courts, he halted and looked up and down 
 as if he hesitated. A watch-fire smouldering and
 
 62 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 sputtering in the rain was burning dully before the 
 drawbridge; the forms of one or two men, ap- 
 parently sentinels, were dimly visible about it. 
 After standing in doubt more then a minute, 
 Bazan glided quickly to the porch of the church 
 of St. Germain PAuxerrois, and disappeared in the 
 angle between it and the cloisters. 
 
 He had been stationary in this position for 
 some half-hour in what bitterness of spirit, com- 
 bating what regrets and painful thoughts it is 
 possible only to imagine when a slight commo- 
 tion took place at the gate which faced him. Two 
 men came out in close converse, and stood a mo- 
 ment looking up as if speaking of the weather. 
 They separated then, and one who even by that 
 uncertain light could be seen to be a man of tall, 
 spare presence, came across the open space to- 
 wards the end of the Rue des Fosses, which passed 
 beside the cloisters. He had just entered the 
 street, when Bazan, who had been closely watch- 
 ing his movements, stepped from the shadow of 
 the houses and touched his sleeve. 
 
 The tall man recoiled sharply as he turned. He 
 laid his hand on his sword and partly drew it. 
 "Who are you?" he said, trying in the darkness 
 to make out the other's features. 
 
 " M. de Crillon, is it not?" the young man asked. 
 
 "Yes. And you, young sir?" 
 
 "My name is Claude de Bazan, but you do not 
 know me. I have a word to say to you,"
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 63 
 
 "You have chosen an odd time, my friend." 
 
 "Some things are always timely," the 3 r oung 
 fellow answered, the excitement under which he 
 laboured and the occasion imparting a spice of 
 flippancy to his tone. "I come to warn you that 
 your life is in danger. Do not go alone, M. de 
 Crillon, or pass this way at night! And what- 
 ever you do, walk for the future in the middle of 
 the street!" 
 
 "For the warning I am obliged to you," the 
 tall man answered, his voice cool and satirical, 
 while his eyes continued to scan the other's fea- 
 tures. "But, I say again, you have chosen a 
 strange time to give it, young sir. Moreover, 
 your name is new to me, and I do not know your 
 face." 
 
 "Nor need you," said Bazan. 
 
 "Ay, but I think I need, craving your pardon," 
 replied the tall, spare man with some sternness. 
 "I am not wont to be scared by little things, nor 
 will I give any man the right to say that he has 
 frightened me with a lighted turnip." 
 
 "Will it convince you if I tell you that I came 
 hitherto kill you?" the young man cried impetu- 
 ously. 
 
 "Yes, if you will say also why you did not at 
 least try?" Crillon answered drily. 
 
 Bazan had not meant to explain himself ; he had 
 proposed to give his warning, and to go. But on 
 the impulse of the moment, carried away by his
 
 64 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 excitement, he spoke, and told the story, and 
 Crillon, after leading him aside, so that a build- 
 ing sheltered them from the rain, listened. He 
 listened, who knew all the dark plans, all the 
 scandals, all the jealousies, all the vile or frantic 
 schemings of a court, that, half French, half Ital- 
 ian, mingled so grimly force and fraud. Nay, 
 when all was told, when Bazan, passing lightly 
 over the resolution he had formed to warn the 
 victim instead of attacking him, came suddenly 
 and lamely to a stop, he still for a time stood 
 silent. At last, "And what will you do now, my 
 friend?" he asked. 
 
 "Go back," the young man answered. 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Pay my debt." 
 
 The courtier swore a great oath it was his fail- 
 ing and with sudden violence he seized his com- 
 panion by the arm, and hurried him into the 
 roadway, and along the street. "To Simon's!" 
 he muttered. " To Simon's, my friend. I know the 
 place. I will cut that villain Berthaud's throat." 
 
 "But what shall I be the better of that?" the 
 young man answered, somewhat bitterly. " I have 
 none the less lost, and must pay." 
 
 Crillon stopped short, the darkness hiding alike 
 his face and his feelings. "So!" he said slowly, 
 "I did not think of that ! No, I did not think of 
 that. But do you mean it? What, if I kill him?" 
 
 "I have played for my life, and lost," Bazan an-
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 65 
 
 swered proudly. " I promised, and I am a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "Pheugh!" Crillon whistled. He swore again, 
 and stood. He was a great man, and full of ex- 
 pedients, but the position was novel. Yet, after 
 a minute's thought, he had an idea. He started 
 off again, taking Bazan's arm, and impelling him 
 onwards, with the same haste and violence. " To 
 Simon's ! to Simon's ! " he cried as before. " Cour- 
 age, my friend, I will play him for you and win 
 you : I will redeem you. After all, it is simple, 
 absolutely simple." 
 
 "He will not play for me," the young man an- 
 swered despondently. Nevertheless he suffered him- 
 self to be borne onwards. "What will you set 
 against me?" 
 
 "Anything, everything!" his new friend cried 
 recklessly. " Myself, if necessary. Courage, M. de 
 Bazan, courage ! What Crillon wills, Crillon does. 
 You do not know me yet, but I have taken a 
 fancy to you, I have!" He swore a grisly oath. 
 "And I will make you mine." 
 
 He gave the young man no time for further ob- 
 jection, but, holding him firmly by the arm, he 
 hurried him through the streets to the door be- 
 low the two gables. On this he knocked with the 
 air of one who had been there before, and to 
 whom all doors opened. In the momentary pause 
 before it yielded Bazan spoke. "Will you not be 
 in danger here?" he asked, wondering much.
 
 66 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "It is a Guise house? True, it is. But there is 
 danger everywhere. No man dies more than once 
 or before God wills it! And I am Crillon!" 
 
 The superb air with which he said this last pre- 
 pared Bazan for what followed. The moment the 
 door was opened, Crillon pushed through the door- 
 way, and with an assured step strode down the 
 passage. He turned the corner of the screen and 
 stood in the room; and, calmly smiling at the 
 group of startled, astonished faces which were 
 turned on him, he drew off his cloak and flung it 
 over his left arm. His height at all times made 
 him a conspicuous figure ; this night he was fresh 
 from court. He wore black and silver, the hilt of 
 his long sword was jewelled, the Order of the Holy 
 Ghost glittered on his breast ; and this fine array 
 seemed to render more shabby the pretentious 
 finery of the third-rate adventurers before him. 
 He saluted them coolly. "It is a wet night, gen- 
 tlemen," he said. 
 
 Some of those who sat farthest off had risen, and 
 all had drawn together as sheep club at sight of 
 the wolf. One of them answered sullenly that it 
 was. 
 
 "You think I intrude, gentlemen?" he returned, 
 smiling pleasantly, drinking in as homage the stir 
 his entrance had caused. For he was vain. "I 
 want only an old friend, M. Michel Berthaud, 
 who is here, I think?" 
 
 "An.d for what do you want him?" the tall
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 67 
 
 dark player answered defiantly ; he alone of those 
 present seemed in a degree a match for the new- 
 comer, though even his gloomy eyes fell before 
 Crillon's easy stare. "For what do you want 
 me?" 
 
 "To propose a little game to you," Crillon an- 
 swered : and he moved down the room, apparently 
 at his ease. "My friend here has told me of his 
 ill-luck. He is resolved to perform his bargain. 
 But first, M. Berthaud, I have a proposal to make 
 to you. His life is yours. You have won it. 
 Well, I will set you five hundred crowns against 
 it." 
 
 The scowl on Berthaud's face did not relax. 
 "No," he said contemptuously. "I will not play 
 with you, M. de Crillon. Let the fool die. What 
 is he to you?" 
 
 "Nothing, and yet I have a fancy to win him," 
 Crillon replied lightly. "Come, I will stake a 
 thousand crowns against him ! A thousand 
 crowns for a life! Mon Diev," he added, with a 
 whimsical glance at Bazan, "but you are dear, 
 my friend!" 
 
 Indeed, half a score of faces shone with cupid- 
 ity, and twice as many bearded lips watered. A 
 thousand crowns ! A whole thousand crowns ! 
 But to the surprise of most a few knew their 
 man Berthaud shook his head. 
 
 "No," he said, "I will not play! I won his 
 life, and I will have it."
 
 68 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Fifteen hundred crowns. I will set that! Fif- 
 teen " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Two thousand, then ! Two thousand, man ! 
 And I will throw in my chain. It is worth five 
 hundred more." 
 
 "No! No! No!" 
 
 "Then, say what you will play for!" the great 
 man roared, his face swelling with rage. "Thou- 
 sand devils and all tonsured ! I have a mind to 
 win his life. What will you have against it?" 
 
 "Against it?" 
 
 "Ay!" 
 
 "Yours!" said M. Berthaud, very softly. 
 
 Bazan drew in his breath sharply : otherwise 
 the silence was so intense that the fall of the wood- 
 ashes from the dying fire could be heard. The 
 immense, the boundless audacity of the proposal 
 made some smile and some start. But none 
 smiled so grimly as M. Michel Berthaud the 
 challenger and none started so little as M. de 
 Crillon, the challenged. 
 
 "A high bid!" he said, lifting his chin with 
 something almost of humour; and then glancing 
 round him, as a wolf might glance, if the sheep 
 turned on him. "You ask much, M. Berthaud." 
 
 "I will ask less then," replied Berthaud, with 
 irony. "If I win, I will give you his life. He shall 
 go free whether you win or lose, M. de Crillon." 
 
 " That is much ! " with answering irony.
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 69 
 
 "Much or little " 
 
 "It is understood?" 
 
 "It is," Berthaud rejoined with a sarcastic bow. 
 
 "Then I accept!" Crillon cried: and with a 
 movement so brisk that some recoiled, he sat 
 down at the table. "I accept. Silence!" he con- 
 tinued, turning sharply upon Bazan, whose cry of 
 remonstrance rang above the astonished murmur 
 of the bystanders. "Silence, fool!" He struck 
 the table. "It is my will. Fear nothing! I am 
 Crillon, and I do not lose." 
 
 There was a superb self-confidence in the man, 
 an arrogance, a courage, which more than any- 
 thing else persuaded his hearers that he was hi 
 earnest, that he was not jesting with them. 
 
 " The terms are quite understood, "he proceeded, 
 grimly. "If I win, we go free, M. Berthaud. If 
 I lose, M. de Bazan goes free, and I undertake on 
 the honor of a nobleman to kill myself before day- 
 light. Shall I say within six hours? I have af- 
 fairs to settle!" 
 
 Probably no one in the room felt astonishment 
 equal to that of Berthaud. A faint colour tinged 
 his sallow cheeks; a fierce gleam of joy flashed in 
 his eyes. But all he said was, "Yes, I am satis- 
 fied." 
 
 "Then throw!" said Crillon, and leaning for- 
 ward he took a candle from a neighbouring table, 
 and placed it beside him. "My friend," he added, 
 speaking to Bazan with earnest gravity, " I ad-
 
 70 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 vise you to be quiet. If you do not we shall 
 quarrel." 
 
 His smile was as easy, his manner as unem- 
 barrassed, his voice as steady, as when he had 
 entered the room. The old gamesters who stood 
 round the table, and had seen, with interest in- 
 deed and some pity, but with no great emotion, 
 a man play his last stake, saw this, saw a man 
 stake his life for a whim, with very different feel- 
 ings ; with astonishment, with admiration, with a 
 sense of inferiority that did not so much gall 
 their pride as awaken their interest. For the mo- 
 ment, the man who was above death, who risked 
 it for a fancy, a trifle, a momentary gratification, 
 was a demigod. " Throw ! " repeated Crillon, heed- 
 less and apparently unconscious of the stir round 
 him : " Throw ! but beware of that candle ! Your 
 sleeve is in it." 
 
 It was; it was singeing. Berthaud moved the 
 candle, and as if his enemy's sang froid wounded 
 him, he threw savagely, dashing down the dice on 
 the table, and lifting the box with a gesture of 
 defiance. He swore a frightful oath : his face was 
 livid. He had thrown aces only. 
 
 "So!" murmured his opponent quietly. "Is 
 that all? A thousand crowns to a hundred that 
 I better that ! Five hundred to a hundred that 
 I double it ! Will no one take me? Then I throw. 
 Courage, my friend. I am Crillon!" 
 
 He threw; an ace and a deuce.
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 71 
 
 "I waste nothing," he said. 
 
 But few heard the words his opponent per- 
 haps and one or two others ; for from end to end 
 the room rang and the oaken rafters shook with 
 a great cry of " Long live Crillon ! the brave 
 Crillon ! " a cry which rose from a score of 
 throats. Then and onwards till the day of his 
 death, many years later, he was known through- 
 out France by no other name. The great king's 
 letter to him, "Hang yourself, brave Crillon. We 
 have fought to-day, and you were not there!" is 
 not yet forgotten nay, never will be forgotten 
 hi a land where, more than in any other, the 
 memories of the past have been swept away. 
 
 He rose from the table, bowing grandly, superb- 
 ly, arrogantly. " Adieu, M. Berthaud for the pres- 
 ent," he said; and had he not seemed too proud 
 to threaten, a threat might have underlain his 
 words. "Adieu, gentlemen," he continued, throw- 
 ing on his cloak. "A good night to you, and 
 equal fortune. M. de Bazan, I will trouble you to 
 accompany me? You have exchanged, let me tell 
 you, one taskmaster for another." 
 
 The young man's heart was too full for words, 
 and making no attempt to speak, or to thank his 
 benefactor, before those who had seen the deed, he 
 followed him from the room. Crillon did not speak 
 or halt until they stood in the Rue des Fosses; 
 nor even there, for after a momentary hesitation 
 he passed through it, and led the way to the mid-
 
 72 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 die of the open space before the Louvre. Here he 
 stopped, and touched his companion on the 
 breast. "Now," he said, "we can speak with free- 
 dom, my friend. You wish to thank me? Do not. 
 Listen to me instead. I have saved your life, ay, 
 that have I; but I hold it at my will? Say, is it 
 not so? Well, I, too, in my turn wish you to do 
 something for me." 
 
 " Anything !" said the young man, passionately. 
 The sight of the other's strange daring had stirred 
 his untried nature to its depths. "You have but 
 to ask and have." 
 
 "Very well," Crillon answered, gravely, "be it 
 so. I take you at your word. Though, mind you, 
 M. de Bazan, 'tis no light thing I ask. It is some- 
 thing," pausing, "from which I shrink myself." 
 
 "Then it is nothing you ask me to do," Bazan 
 answered. 
 
 " Not so," the courtier replied, though he looked 
 far from ill-pleased by the compliment. "Listen. 
 To-morrow the king sups at the house of Madame 
 de Sauves. I shall be with him. Her house is in 
 the Rue de 1'Arbre Sec, two doors from the con- 
 vent. Here are a hundred crowns. Dress your- 
 self so that you may appear as one of my gen- 
 tlemen, and wait near the gates till I come. Then 
 follow me in, and at supper stand behind my 
 chair, as the others of my suite will stand." 
 
 "And is that all?" Bazan asked in astonish- 
 ment.
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 73 
 
 "No, not quite," Crillon answered dryly. "The 
 rest I will whisper in your ear as I pass. Only 
 do what I bid you boldly and faithfully, my friend, 
 and afterwards, if all be well, I will not forget 
 you." 
 
 "I am yours ! Do with me as you will ! " Bazan 
 protested. 
 
 But to mortals the unknown is ever terrible; 
 and for twenty-four hours Bazan had the unknown 
 before him. What could that be from which Cril- 
 lon himself said that he shrank a man so brave? 
 It could not be death, for that he had risked on 
 the lightest, the flimsiest, the most fantastic prov- 
 ocation. Then what could it be? Bazan turned 
 the question in his mind, turned it a hundred 
 times that night, turned it a hundred times as he 
 went about his preparations next day. Turned it 
 and turned it, but instinctively, though no injunc- 
 tions to that effect had been given him, took care 
 to show himself as little as possible in public, and 
 especially to shun all places where he might meet 
 those who had been present at that strange game 
 at Simon's. 
 
 A quarter before nine on the next evening, saw 
 him waiting with a beating heart outside the 
 house in the Rue de 1'Arbre Sec. He formed one of 
 a crowd of lackeys, and linkboys, citizens, ap- 
 prentices, and chance passers who had been at- 
 tracted to the spot by the lights and by the 
 guards in the royal livery, who already, though
 
 74 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the king was not come, kept the entrance to the 
 courtyard. Bazan pushed himself with some diffi- 
 culty into the front rank, and there waited, scan- 
 ning with feverish eagerness every one who en- 
 tered. 
 
 Time passed, and no Crillon appeared, though 
 presently a great shouting along the street pro- 
 claimed the approach of the Duke of Guise, and 
 that nobleman passed slowly in, noting with a 
 falcon's eye the faces of the bowing throng. He 
 was a man of grand height and imperial front 
 a great scar seeming to make the latter more for- 
 midablehis smile a trifle supercilious, his eyes 
 somewhat near one another ; and under his glance 
 Bazan felt for the moment small and mean. A 
 little later, from the talk of those about him, the 
 young man learned that the king was drawing 
 near, and Henry's coach, surrounded by a dozen 
 of the Forty-five, lumbered along the street. It 
 was greeted with comparative coldness, only those 
 who stood under the guards' eyes performing a 
 careless salute. 
 
 Bazan was no Parisian, though for the present 
 in Paris, and no Leaguer, though a Roman Cath- 
 olic ; and he forgot his present errand in the excite- 
 ment of his rustic loyalty. Raising his bonnet, he 
 cried loudly Vive le Roi! cried it more than once. 
 There were six in the coach, but Henry, whose 
 pale meagre face with its almond eyes and scanty 
 beard permitted no mistake, remarked the saluta-
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 75 
 
 tion and the giver, and his look cast the young 
 man into a confusion which nearly cost him 
 dearly ; for it was only as the guards closed round 
 the coach that he perceived Crillon sitting in the 
 nearer boot. The moment he did see him he 
 pushed forward among the running footmen who 
 followed the coach, and succeeded in entering with 
 it. 
 
 The courtyard, crowded with gentlemen, lackeys 
 and torch-bearers, was a scene of great confusion, 
 and Bazan had no difficulty in approaching Cril- 
 lon and exchanging a sentence with him. That 
 effected, so completely was he confounded by the 
 order whispered in his ear, that he observed noth- 
 ing more until he found himself in a long gallery, 
 waiting with many others attached to the great 
 men's suites, while the magnificoes themselves 
 talked together at the upper end. By listening to 
 the gossip round him, he learned that one dark 
 handsome man among the latter was Alphonso 
 d'Ornano, often called the Corsican Captain. A 
 second was M. d'O, the Governor of Paris; a 
 third, the Count of Soissons. But he had scarcely 
 time to note these, or the novel and splendid scene 
 in which he stood, before the double doors at the 
 end of the gallery were thrown widely open, and 
 amid a sudden hush the great courtiers passed 
 into the supper room in which the king, the Duke 
 of Guise, and several ladies, already stood or sat 
 in their places, having entered by another door.
 
 76 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Bazan pressed in with the flock of attendant 
 gentlemen, and seeing Crillon preparing to sit 
 down not far from the dais and canopy which 
 marked the king's chair, he took his stand against 
 the wall behind him. 
 
 If the words which Crillon had dropped into his 
 ear had not occupied three-fourths of his thoughts, 
 Bazan would have felt a keener admiration of the 
 scene before him ; which, as was natural, surpassed 
 in luxury anything the country lad had ever im- 
 agined. The room, panelled and ceiled with cedar, 
 was hung with blue velvet and lighted by a hun- 
 dred tapers. The table gleamed with fine napery 
 and gold plate, with Palissy ware and Cellini 
 vases ; and these, with the rich dresses and jewels 
 and fair shoulders of the ladies, combined to form 
 a beautiful interior which resounded with the bab- 
 ble of talk and laughter. It was hard to detect 
 danger lurking under these things, under the silk, 
 within the flashing, gleaming cups, behind smiling 
 eyes; still harder to discern below these fair ap- 
 pearances a peril from which a Crillon shrank. 
 
 But to Bazan, as he waited with tortured nerves, 
 these things were nothing. They were no more 
 than fair flowers to the man who espies the coils 
 of a snake among the blossoms. Crillon's whisper 
 had revealed all to him all, hi one brief sentence ; 
 so that when he presently recognized Michel Ber- 
 thaud standing near the upper end of the table and 
 on the farther side of it, in attendance upon the
 
 CKILLON'S STAKE 77 
 
 Duke of Guise, he felt no astonishment, but only 
 a shrewd suspicion of the quarter from which the 
 danger might be expected. 
 
 The king, a man of thirty-seven, so effeminate in 
 appearance that it was hard to believe he had seen 
 famous fields and once bidden fair to be a great 
 Captain, was nursing a dog on his lap, the while 
 he listened with a weary air to the whispers of the 
 beautiful woman who sat next him. Apparently 
 he had a niggard ear even for her witcheries, and 
 little appetite save for the wine flask. Lassitude 
 lived in his eyes, his long thin fingers trembled. 
 Bazan watched him drain his goblet of wine, al- 
 most as soon as he sat down, and watched him, 
 too, hold out the gold cup to be filled again. The 
 task was performed by an assiduous hand, and for 
 a moment the king poised the cup in his fingers, 
 speaking to his neighbour the while. Then he laid 
 it down, but his hand did not quit its neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 The next moment the room rang with a cry of 
 alarm and indignation, and every face was turned 
 one way. Bazan with unparalleled audacity had 
 stepped forward, had seized the sacred cup almost 
 from the royal hand, and drained it ! 
 
 While some sprang from their seats, two or three 
 seized the culprit and held him fast. One more 
 enthusiastic than the others or more keenly sensi- 
 tive to the outrage of which he had been guilty, 
 aimed a fierce blow at his breast with a poniard.
 
 78 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 The stroke was well meant, nay, was well directed ; 
 but it was adroitly intercepted by M. de Crillon, 
 who had been among the first to rise. With a 
 blow of his sheathed sword he sent the dagger 
 spinning towards the ceiling. 
 
 "Back !" he cried, in a voice of thunder, placing 
 himself before the culprit. " Stand back, I say ! I 
 will answer to the king for all!" 
 
 He cleared a space before him with his scabbard, 
 and a quick signal brought to his side the two 
 guards at the nearest door, who were men of his 
 command. These, crossing their pikes before the 
 prisoner, secured him from immediate attack. By 
 this time all in the room had risen save the king, 
 who appeared less moved than any by the inci- 
 dent. At this point he raised his hand to procure 
 silence. 
 
 "Is he mad?" he asked calmly. "What is it, 
 Crillon?" 
 
 "I will satisfy your Grace," the courtier an- 
 swered. But the next moment, with a sudden 
 change of tone, he cried loudly and rapidly, " Stop 
 that man, I beg you, d'Ornano ! Stop him ! " 
 
 The warning came too late. The Corsican 
 sprang indeed to the door, but the crowd impeded 
 him; and the man to whom Crillon referred the 
 same who had struck at Bazan, and who was no 
 other than Berthaud got to it Urst, slipped out 
 and was gone from sight, before those near the en- 
 trance had recovered from their surprise.
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 79 
 
 "Follow him," Crillon cried loudly. "Seize him 
 at all hazards ! Mort de Dieu ! He has outwitted 
 us at last." 
 
 "His Majesty has asked, M. de Crillon," said 
 one at the table, speaking in the haughty, imperi- 
 ous tone of a man who never spoke unheeded, 
 "what is the meaning of all this? Perhaps you 
 will kindly satisfy him." 
 
 "I will satisfy him," Crillon answered, grimly 
 fixing his eyes on the other's handsome face. 
 "And you, too, M. de Guise. An attempt has 
 been made to poison my master. This young 
 man, observing that a strange hand poured the 
 king's wine, has saved his Majesty's life by taking 
 the poison himself!" 
 
 Henry of Guise laughed scornfully. "A likely 
 story !" he said. 
 
 " And in my house ! " Madame de Sauves cried in 
 the same tone. " His Majesty will not believe that 
 I " 
 
 "I said nothing against Madame de Sauves," 
 Crillon answered, with firmness. "For the rest, 
 let the king be judge. The issue is simple. If the 
 lad go scatheless, there was no poison in that cup 
 and I am a liar. If he suffer, then let the king 
 say who lies!" 
 
 A close observer might have seen an uneasy ex- 
 pression flit across more than one face, darken 
 more than one pair of eyes. Crillon remained on 
 his guard facing the table, his eyes keenly vigilant.
 
 80 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 The Count of Soissons, one of the younger Bour- 
 bons, had already stepped to the king's side and 
 taken place by his chair, his hand on his hilt. 
 D'Ornano, who had despatched two guards after 
 Berthaud, openly drew his long sword and placed 
 himself on the other side of the dais. Nor was sus- 
 picion confined to their party. Half a dozen gen- 
 tlemen had risen to their feet about the Duke of 
 Guise, who continued to sit with folded arms, con- 
 tent to smile. He was aware that at the worst 
 here in Paris he was safe ; perhaps he was innocent 
 of harm or intent. 
 
 The main effect, however, of Crillon's last words 
 was to draw many eyes, and amongst them the 
 king's, to the prisoner's face. Bazan was leaning 
 against the wall, the cup still in his grasp. As 
 they turned with a single movement towards him, 
 his face began to grow a shade paler, a spasm 
 moved his lips, and after the interval of a moment 
 the cup fell from his hand to the ground. Thrust- 
 ing himself with a convulsive movement from the 
 wall, he put out his hands and groped with them 
 as if he could no longer see; until, one of them 
 meeting the pike of the nearest guard, he tried to 
 support himself by this. At the same time he 
 muttered hoarsely, "M. de Crillon, you saw it! 
 We are we are quits ! " 
 
 He would have fallen on that, but the men 
 caught him in their arms and held him up, amid a 
 murmur of horror; to many brave men death in
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 81 
 
 this special form is appalling. Here and there a 
 woman shrieked; one fainted. Meanwhile, the 
 young man's face was becoming livid; his neck 
 seemed to stiffen, his eyes to protrude. The king 
 looked at him and shuddered. "Saint Denis !" he 
 muttered, the perspiration standing on his brow, 
 " what an escape ! What an escape ! Can nothing 
 be done for him?" 
 
 "I will try, Sire," Crillon answered, abandoning 
 for the first time his attitude of watchfulness. 
 Drawing a small phial from his pocket, he directed 
 one of the guards to force open the lad's teeth, 
 and then himself poured the contents of the bottle 
 between them. 
 
 "Good lad," he muttered to himself, "he has 
 drained the cup. I bade him drink only half. It 
 would have been enough. But he is young and 
 strong. He may surmount it." 
 
 The rest looked on, some in curiosity, some in 
 pity, some in secret apprehension. It was the 
 Duke of Guise who put into words the thoughts of 
 many. "Those," he said scornfully, "who find 
 the antidote, may know the poison, M. de Cril- 
 lon." 
 
 "What do you mean, Duke?" Crillon replied 
 passionately, as he sprang to his feet. "That I 
 was in this? That I know more than I have told 
 of it? If so, you lie, sir; and you know it!" 
 
 "I know it?" the Duke cried, his eyes aflame, his 
 cheeks reddening. Never had he heard such words.
 
 82 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 " Do you dare to insinuate that I know more of 
 this plot than yourself if plot there be?" 
 
 "Enough !" said the king, rising in great haste, 
 and with a face which betrayed his emotion. "Si- 
 lence, gentlemen ! silence ! And you, my cousin, 
 not another word, I command you ! Who poured 
 out the wine?" 
 
 "A villain called Berthaud," Crillon answered 
 promptly and fiercely, "who was in attendance 
 upon the Duke of Guise." 
 
 "He was not in attendance on me!" the duke 
 answered, with spirit. 
 
 "Then on Madame de Sauves." 
 
 "I know nothing of him!" cried that lady, 
 hysterically. "I never spoke to the man in my 
 life. I do not know him!" 
 
 "Enough !" the king said with decision; but the 
 gloom on his brow grew darker. "Enough. Until 
 Berthaud is found, let no more be said. Cousin," 
 he continued to the Count of Soissons, "you will 
 see us home. D'Ornano, we return at once, and 
 you will accompany us. For M. de Crillon, we 
 commit to him the care of this young man, to 
 whom we appear to be indebted, and whose 
 thought for us we shall not forget. Madame, I 
 kiss your hand." 
 
 Guise's salutation he acknowledged only by a 
 grave bow. The last of the Valois could at times 
 exert himself, could at times play again the hero 
 of Jarnac and Montcontour, could even assume a
 
 CEILLON'S STAKE 83 
 
 dignity no whit less than that of Guise. As he 
 retired all bowed low to him, and the greater part 
 of the assemblage even those who had not at- 
 tended him to the house left in his train. In 
 three minutes Crillon, a couple of inferior officers, 
 and a handful of guards alone remained round the 
 young man. 
 
 "He will recover," Crillon said, speaking to the 
 officer next him. " He is young, and they did not 
 dare to make the dose too strong. We shall not, 
 however, convict any one now, unless Berthaud 
 speaks." 
 
 "Berthaud is dead." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "As dead as Clovis," the lieutenant repeated 
 calmly. "He is lying in the passage, M. de Cril- 
 lon." 
 
 "Who killed him?" cried Crillon, leaping up in a 
 rage. "Who dared to kill him? Not those fools 
 of guards when they knew it was his evidence we 
 wanted." 
 
 "No, no," said the other coolly. "They found 
 him dead not twenty paces from the house. He 
 was a doomed man when he passed through the 
 door. You understand, M. de Crillon? He knew 
 too much to live." 
 
 " Mort de Dieu ! " cried Crillon, raising his hands 
 in admiration. "How clever they are! Not a 
 thing forgotten ! Well, I will to the king and tell 
 him. It will put him on l}is guard. If I had not
 
 84 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 contrived to try the draught there and then, I 
 could not have convinced him ; and if I had not by 
 a lucky hazard won this young man last night, I 
 might have whistled for one to try it! But I 
 must go." 
 
 Yet he lingered a minute to see how the lad 
 progressed. The convulsions which had for a time 
 racked Bazan's vigorous frame had ceased, and a 
 profuse perspiration was breaking out on his 
 brow. 
 
 "Yes, he will recover," said Crillon again, and 
 with greater confidence. 
 
 As if the words had reached Bazan's brain, he 
 opened his eyes. 
 
 "I did it!" he muttered. "I did it. We are 
 quits, M. de Crillon!" 
 
 "Not so!" cried the other, stooping impetu- 
 ously and embracing him. " Not quits ! The 
 balance is against me now, but I will redress it. 
 Be easy; your fortune is made, M. de Bazan. 
 While James Berthon de Crillon lives you shall not 
 lack a friend !" 
 
 He kept his word. There can be little doubt 
 that the Laurence de Bazan who held high office 
 under the Minister Sully, and in particular rose 
 to be Deputy Superintendent of the Finances in 
 Guienne, was our young Bazan. This being so, it 
 is clear that he outlived by many years his pa- 
 tron : for Crillon, "le brave Crillon," whose whim 
 it was to dare greatly, and on small occasion,
 
 CRILLON'S STAKE 85 
 
 died early in the seventeenth century in his bed 
 and lies under a famous stone in the Cathedral of 
 Avignon. Whereas we find Bazan still flourishing, 
 and a person of consequence at Court, when 
 Richelieu came to the height of his power. Never- 
 theless on him there remains no stone ; only some 
 sketch of the above, and a crabbed note at the 
 foot of a dusty page in a dark library.
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 
 
 PARIS had never seemed to the eye more peaceful 
 than on a certain November evening in the year 
 1591 : and this although many a one within its 
 walls resented the fineness of the night as a mock- 
 ery, as a scoff alike at the pain of some and the 
 fury of others. 
 
 The moonlight fell on roofs and towers, on the 
 bare open space of the Place de Greve, and the 
 dark mass of the Louvre, and only here and there 
 pierced, by chance, a narrow lane, to gleam on 
 some foul secret of the kennel. The Seine lay a 
 silvery loop about the He de la Cite a loop cut 
 on this side and that by the black shadows of the 
 Pont au Change, and the Petit Pont, and broken 
 again westward by the outline of the New Bridge, 
 which was then in building. 
 
 The city itself lay in profound quiet in the depth 
 of the shadow. From time to time at one of the 
 gates, or in the vaulted lodge of the Chatelet, a 
 sentinel challenged or an officer spoke. But the 
 bell of St. Germain 1'Auxerrois, which had rung 
 through hours of the past day, was silent. The 
 tumult which had leaped like flame from street to
 
 FOE THE CAUSE 87 
 
 street had subsided. Peaceful men breathed again 
 in their houses, and women, if they still cowered 
 by the hearth, no longer laid trembling fingers on 
 their ears. For a time the red fury was over : and 
 in the narrow channels, where at noon the mob 
 had seethed and roared, scarcely a stray wayfarer 
 could now be found. 
 
 A few however were abroad : and of these some, 
 who chanced to be threading the network of 
 streets between the Chatelet and the Louvre, 
 heard behind them the footsteps of one in great 
 haste. Turning, they saw pass by them a youth, 
 wearing a sword and a student's short cloak and 
 cap apparently he was a member of the Univer- 
 sity. He was pale of face, and for his part looked 
 neither to right nor left : saw not one of them, 
 and seemed bent only on getting forward. 
 
 He slackened his pace however near the corner of 
 the Rue de Tirchape, where it shoots out of the 
 Rue de Bethisy; and then turning the corner im- 
 pulsively, he caught his foot in some obstacle, and, 
 plunging forward, would have fallen, if he had not 
 come against a man, who seemed to be standing 
 still in the shadow of the corner house. 
 
 " Hold up ! " exclaimed this person, withstanding 
 the shock better than could have been expected, 
 for he was neither tall nor bulky. "You should 
 have a pretty mistress, young man, if you go to 
 her at this pace!" 
 
 The student did not answer did not seem to
 
 88 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 hear. He staggered against the wall, and stood 
 propping himself up by it. His face, pale before, 
 was ghastly, as he glared, horror-struck, at some- 
 thing beyond the speaker. The latter, after mut- 
 tering angrily, "What the plague, then, do you 
 go dashing about the streets like a Shrove Tues- 
 day ox for?" turned also and glanced behind him. 
 
 But not at that to which the student's eyes were 
 directed. The stranger seemed constrained to 
 look first and by preference at the long, low case- 
 ment of a house nearly opposite them. This win- 
 dow was on the first floor, and projected some- 
 what over the roadway. There seemed to be no 
 light in the room within; but the moonlight 
 reached it, and showed a woman's head bent on 
 the sill a girl's head, if one might judge from its 
 wealth of hair. One white wrist gleamed amid the 
 coil, but her face was hidden on her arms and 
 showed not. In the whole scene in the casement 
 open at this inclement time, in the girl's attitude, 
 in her abandonment, there was something which 
 stirred the nerves. It was only after a long look 
 that the stranger averted his eyes, and cast a 
 casual glance at a queer, dark object, which a few 
 paces away swung above the street, dimly outlined 
 against the sky. It was clear that it was that 
 which had fascinated his companion. 
 
 "Umph!" he ejaculated in the tone of a man 
 who should say "Is that all?" And he turned to 
 the youth again. " You seem taken aback, young
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 89 
 
 man?" he said. "Surely that is no such strange 
 sight in Paris nowadays. What with Leaguers 
 hanging Politiques, and Politiques hanging 
 Leaguers, and both burning Huguenots, I thought 
 a dead man was no longer a bogey to frighten 
 children with!" 
 
 " Hush, sir, in Heaven's name ! " the young man 
 exclaimed, shuddering at his words. And then, 
 with a gesture of despair, "He was my father !" 
 
 The stranger whistled. "He was your father, 
 was he!" he replied more gently. "I dare swear 
 too that he was an honest man, since the Sixteen 
 have done this. There, steady, my friend. These 
 are no times for weeping. Be thankful that Le 
 Clerc and his crew have spared your home, and 
 your your sister. That is rare clemency in these 
 days, and Heaven only knows how long it may 
 last. You wear a sword? Then shed no tears to 
 rust it. Time enough to weep, man, when there is 
 blood to be washed from the blade." 
 
 "You speak boldly," said the youth, checking 
 his emotion somewhat, "but had they hung your 
 father before his own door " 
 
 "Good man," said the stranger with a coolness 
 that bordered on the cynical, "he has been dead 
 these twenty years." 
 
 "Then your mother?" the student suggested 
 with the feeble persistence by which weak minds 
 show their consciousness of contact with stronger 
 ones, "you had then "
 
 90 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Hung them all as high as Haman!" 
 
 " Ay, but suppose there were among them some 
 you could not hang," objected the youth, in a 
 lower tone, while he eyed his companion narrowly, 
 "some of the clergy, you understand?" 
 
 "They had swung though they had all been 
 Popes of Rome," was the blunt answer. 
 
 The young man shook his head, and drew off a 
 pace. He scanned the stranger curiously, keeping 
 his back turned to the corpse the while; but he 
 failed by that light to make out much one way or 
 the other. Scarcely a moment too was allowed 
 him before the murmur of voices and the clash of 
 weapons at the farther end of the street inter- 
 rupted him. "The watch are coming," he said 
 roughly. 
 
 "You are right," his companion assented, "and 
 the sooner we are within doors the better." 
 
 It was noticeable that throughout their talk 
 which had lasted some minutes no sign of life had 
 appeared in any of the neighbouring houses. 
 Scarce a light shone from doorway or window 
 though it was as yet but nine o'clock. In truth 
 fear of the Sixteen and of the mob whom they 
 guided was overpowering Paris was a terror 
 crushing out men's lives. While the provinces of 
 France were divided between two opinions, and 
 half of them owned the Huguenot Henry the 
 Fourth now for two years the rightful sovereign 
 Paris would have none of him. The fierce
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 91 
 
 bigotry of the lower classes, the presence of some 
 thousands of Spanish soldiers, and the ambition 
 and talents of the Guise family combined at once 
 to keep the gates of Paris closed to him, and to 
 overawe such of the respectable citizens as from 
 religious sympathy in rare cases, more often out 
 of a desire to see the re-establishment of law and 
 order, would have adopted his cause. The Poli- 
 tiques, or moderate party, who were indifferent 
 about religion as such, but believed that a strong 
 government could be formed only by a Romanist 
 king, were almost non-existent in Paris. And the 
 events of the past day, the murder of three magis- 
 trates and several lower officials among them 
 poor M. Portail, whose body now decorated the 
 Rue de Tirchape had not reassured the municipal 
 mind. No wonder that men put out their lights 
 early, and were loth to go to their windows, when 
 they might see a few feet from the casement the 
 swollen features of a harmless, honest man, but 
 yesterday going to and from his work like other 
 men. 
 
 Young Portail stole to the door of the house 
 and knocked hurriedly. As he did so, he looked, 
 with something like a shiver of apprehension, at 
 the window above his head. But the girl neither 
 moved nor spoke, nor betrayed any consciousness 
 of his presence. She might have been dead. It 
 was a young man, about his own age or a little 
 older, who, after reconnoitring him from above,
 
 92 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 cautiously drew back the door. " Whom have you 
 with you?" he whispered, holding it ajar, and let- 
 ting the end of a stout club be seen. 
 
 "No one," Portail replied in the same cautious 
 tone. And he would have entered without more 
 ado, and closed the door behind him had not his 
 late companion, who had followed him across the 
 street like his shadow, set his foot against it. 
 "Nay, but you are forgetting me," he said good- 
 humouredly. 
 
 " Go your way ! we have enough to do to pro- 
 tect ourselves," cried Portail, brusquely. 
 
 " The more need of me," was the careless answer. 
 
 The watch w^ere now but a few houses away, 
 and the stranger seemed determined. He could 
 scarcely be kept out without a disturbance. With 
 an angry oath Felix Portail held the door for him 
 to enter; and closed it softly behind him. Then 
 for a minute or so the three stood silent in the 
 darkness of the damp-smelling passage, while with 
 a murmur of voices and clash of weapons, and a 
 ruddy glimmer piercing crack and keyhole, the 
 guard swept by. 
 
 "Have you a light?" Felix murmured, as the 
 noise began to die away. 
 
 "In the back room," replied the young man 
 who had admitted them. He seemed to be a clerk 
 or confidential servant. "But your sister," he 
 continued, "is distraught. She has sat at the 
 window all day as you see her now sometimes
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 93 
 
 looking at it. Oh, Felix," in a voice shaken by 
 tears, "this has been a dreadful day for this 
 house!" 
 
 The young Portail assented by a groan. "And 
 Susanne?" he asked. 
 
 "Is with Mistress Marie, terrified almost to 
 death, poor child. She has been crouching all day 
 beside her, hiding her face hi her gown. But 
 where were you?" 
 
 "At the Sorbonne," Felix replied, in a whisper. 
 
 "Ah !" the other exclaimed, something of hidden 
 meaning in his tone. "I would not tell her that, 
 if I were you. I feared it was so. But let us go 
 upstairs." 
 
 They went up ; the stranger following, with more 
 than one stumble by the way. At the head of the 
 staircase the clerk opened a door and preceded 
 them into a low-roofed panelled room, plainly but 
 solidly furnished, and lighted by a small hanging 
 lamp of silver. A round oak table on six curiously 
 turned legs stood in the middle, and on it some 
 food was laid. A high-backed chair, before which 
 a sheep-skin rug was spread, and two or three 
 stools, made up, with a great oak chest, the 
 furniture of the room. 
 
 The stranger turned from scrutinizing his sur- 
 roundings, and stood at gaze. Another door had 
 opened silently; he saw framed in the doorway 
 and relieved by the lamplight against the darkness 
 of the outer room the face and figure of a tall
 
 94 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 girl; doubtless the one whom he had seen at the 
 window. A moment she stood pointing at them 
 with her hand, her face white and whiter in seem- 
 ing by reason of the black hair which fell round 
 it ; her eyes were dilated, the neckband of her dark 
 red gown was torn open that she might have air. 
 "A Provengal!" the intruder murmured to him- 
 self. "Beautiful and a tigress." 
 
 At any rate, for the moment, beside herself. "So 
 you have come at last !" she said, panting, glaring 
 at Felix with scorn, passionate scorn in word and 
 gesture. "Where were you while these slaves of 
 yours did your bidding? At the Sorbonne with 
 the black crows! Thinking out fresh work for 
 them? Or dallying with your Normandy sweet- 
 heart?" 
 
 "Hush !" he said, lowering his eyes, and visibly 
 quailing before her. " There is a stranger here." 
 
 "There have been many strangers here to- 
 day!" she retorted with undiminished bitterness. 
 " Hush, you say? Nay, but I will not be silent for 
 you, for any ! They may tear me limb from limb, 
 but I will accuse them of this murder before God's 
 throne. Coward ! Parricide ! Do you think I 
 will ask mercy from them? Come, look on your 
 work! See what the League have done your 
 holy League ! while you sat plotting with the 
 black crows!" 
 
 She pointed into the dark room behind her, and 
 the movement disclosed a younger girl clinging to
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 95 
 
 her skirts, and weeping silently. "Come here, 
 Susanne," Felix said; he had turned pale and red 
 and shifted from one foot to another, under the 
 lash of the elder girl's scorn. " Your sister is not 
 herself. You do no good, Marie, staying in there. 
 See, you are both trembling with cold." 
 
 "With cold?" was the fierce rejoinder. "Then 
 do you warm yourselves ! Sit down and eat and 
 drink and be comfortable and forget him ! But I 
 will not eat nor drink while he hangs there! 
 Shame, Felix Portail ! Shame ! Have you arms 
 and hands, and will let your father hang before 
 his own door?" 
 
 Her voice rang shrill to the last word audible 
 far down the street ; that said, an awkward silence 
 fell on the room. The stranger nodded twice, 
 almost as if he said, "Bravo ! Bravo." The two 
 men of the house cast doubtful glances at one an- 
 other. At length the clerk spoke. "It is impossi- 
 ble, mistress," he said gently. "Were he touched, 
 the mob would wreck the house to-morrow." 
 
 "A little bird whispered to me as I came 
 through the streets," it was the stranger who 
 spoke "that Mayenne and his riders would be in 
 town to-morrow. Then it seems to me that our 
 friends of the Sorbonne will not have matters alto- 
 gether their own way to wreck or to spare!" 
 
 The Sorbonne was the Theological College of 
 Paris ; at this time it was the headquarters of the 
 extreme Leaguers and the Sixteen. Mayenne an4
 
 96 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 D'Aumale, the Guise princes, more than once found 
 it necessary to check the excesses of the party. 
 
 Marie Portail looked for the first time at the 
 speaker. He sat on the edge of the chest, care- 
 lessly swinging one knee over the other ; a man of 
 middle height, neither tall nor short, with well- 
 bronzed cheeks, a forehead broad and white, and 
 an aquiline nose. He wore a beard and mous- 
 taches, and his chin jutted out. His eyes were 
 keen, but good-humoured. Though spare he was 
 sinewy ; and an iron-hilted sword propped against 
 his thigh seemed made for use rather than show. 
 The upper part of his dress was of brown cloth, 
 the lower of leather. A weather-stained cloak, 
 which he had taken off, lay on the chest beside 
 him. 
 
 "You are a man !" cried Marie, her eyes leaving 
 him again. "But as for these " 
 
 "Stay, mistress!" the clerk broke in. "Your 
 brother does but collect himself. If the Duke of 
 Mayenne returns to-morrow, as our friend here 
 says is likely and I have heard the same myself 
 he will keep his men in better order. That is 
 true. And we might risk it if the watch would 
 leave us a clear street." 
 
 Felix nodded sullenly. "Shut the door," he 
 said to his sister, the deep gloom on his coun- 
 tenance in sharp contrast with the excitement she 
 betrayed. " There is no need to let the neighbours 
 see us."
 
 FOE THE CAUSE 97 
 
 This time she obeyed him. Susanne too crept 
 from her skirts, and threw herself on her knees, 
 hiding her face on a chair. "Ay!" said Marie, 
 looking down at her with the first expression 
 of tenderness the stranger had noted in her. 
 "Let her weep. Let children weep. But let men 
 work." 
 
 "We want a ladder," the clerk said, in a low 
 voice. "And the longest we have is full three feet 
 short." 
 
 "That is just half a man," remarked he who 
 sat on the chest. 
 
 "What mean you?" Felix asked wonderingly. 
 
 "What I said." 
 
 "But there is nothing on which we can rest the 
 ladder," the clerk urged. 
 
 "Then that is a whole man," quoth the stran- 
 ger, curtly. " Perhaps two. I told you you would 
 have need of me." He looked from one to the 
 other with a smile a careless, reckless, self-con- 
 tented smile. 
 
 "You are a soldier," said Marie. And abruptly 
 she fixed her eyes upon him. 
 
 "At times," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 "For which side?" 
 
 He shook his head. "For my own," he an- 
 swered naively. 
 
 "A soldier of fortune?" 
 
 "At your service, mistress; now and ever." 
 
 The clerk struck in with impatience. "If we are
 
 98 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 to do this," he said, "we had better set about it. 
 I will fetch the ladder." 
 
 He went out, and the other men followed more 
 slowly down the stairs ; leaving Marie still stand- 
 ing gazing into the darkness of the front room- 
 she had opened the door again like one in a 
 trance. Some odd trait in the soldier led him, as 
 he passed out, to lay his hand on the hair of the 
 kneeling child with a movement infinitely tender ; 
 infinitely at variance with the harsh clatter with 
 which his sword next moment rang against the 
 stairs as he descended. 
 
 The three men were going to do that which two 
 for certain, and all perhaps, knew to be perilous. 
 One went to it in gloom, reluctance and anger, as 
 well as with sorrow at his heart. One bustled 
 about nervously, and looked often behind him as 
 if to see Marie's pale face at the window. And one 
 strode out as to a ball, glancing up and down the 
 dark lane with an air of enjoyment, which not 
 even the grim nature of his task could suppress. 
 The body was hanging from a bar which crossed 
 the street at a considerable height, and served as 
 a stay between the gables of two opposite houses, 
 of which one was two doors only from the un- 
 happy PortaiFs. The mob, with a barbarity very 
 common in those days, had hung him on his own 
 threshold. 
 
 The street, as the three moved into it, seemed 
 empty and still. But it was impossible to say
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 99 
 
 how long it would remain so. Yet the soldier 
 loitered, staring about him, as one remembering 
 things. " Did not the Admiral live in this street?" 
 he inquired. 
 
 "De Coligny? No. Round the corner in the 
 Rue de Bethisy," replied the clerk, brusquely. 
 " But see ! The ladder will not reach the bar no, 
 not by four feet." 
 
 "Set it against the wall then thus," said the 
 soldier, and having done it himself, he mounted a 
 few steps. Then he seemed to bethink himself. He 
 jumped down again. "No," he exclaimed, peering 
 sharply into the faces of one and the other, "I do 
 not know you. If any one comes, my friends, and 
 you leave the foot of the ladder, I shall be taken 
 like a bird on a limed twig. Do you ascend, 
 Monsieur Felix." 
 
 The young man drew back. He was not without 
 courage, or experience of rough scenes. But the 
 Louvre was close at hand, almost within earshot 
 on one side, the Chatelet was scarcely farther off 
 on the other ; and both swarmed with soldiers and 
 the armed scourings of the streets. At any mo- 
 ment a troop of these might pass; and should 
 they detect any one interfering with King Mob's 
 handiwork, he would certainly dangle in a few 
 minutes from that same handy lamp-iron. Felix 
 knew this, and stood at gaze. "I do not know 
 you either," he muttered irresolutely, his hand 
 still on the ladder.
 
 100 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 A smile of surprising humour played on the 
 soldier's face. "Nay, but you knew him!" he re- 
 torted, pointing upwards with his hand. "Trust 
 me, young sir," he added significantly, "I am less 
 inclined to mount now than I was before." 
 
 The clerk intervened before Felix could resent 
 the insult. "Steady," he said; "I will go up and 
 do it." 
 
 "Not so!" Felix rejoined, pushing him aside in 
 turn. And he ran up the ladder. But near the 
 top he paused, and began to descend again. "I 
 have no knife," he said shamefacedly. 
 
 "Pshaw! Let me come!" cried the stranger. 
 "I see you are both good comrades. I trust you. 
 Besides, I am more used to this ladder work than 
 you are, and time is everything." 
 
 He ran up as he spoke, and, standing on the 
 highest round but one, he grasped the bar above 
 his head, and swung himself lightly up, so as to 
 gain a seat on it. With more caution he wormed 
 himself along it until he reached the rope. For- 
 tunately there was a long coil of this about the 
 bar ; and warning his companions in a whisper, he 
 carefully, and with such reverence as the time and 
 place allowed, let down the body to them. They 
 received it in their arms; and had just loosened 
 the noose from the neck when an outburst of 
 voices and the tramp of footsteps at the nearer 
 end of the street surprised them. For an instant 
 the two stood in the gloom, breathless, stricken
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 101 
 
 still, confounded. Then with a single impulse they 
 lifted the body between them, and huddled blindly 
 towards the door of the Portails' house. It 
 opened at their touch, they stumbled in, and it 
 fell to behind them. The foremost of the armed 
 watch had been within ten paces of them. The 
 escape was narrow. 
 
 Yet they had escaped. But what next? What 
 of their comrade? The moment the door was 
 closed behind them, one at least would have 
 rushed out again, ay, to certain death, so strongly 
 had the soldier's trust appealed to his honour. 
 But they had the body in their arms ; and by the 
 time it was laid on the stairs, a score of men had 
 passed. The opportunity was over. They could 
 do nothing but listen. "Heaven help him!" fell 
 from the clerk's quivering lips. Pulling the door 
 close, they stood, looking each moment to hear a 
 challenge, a shot, the clash of swords. But no. 
 They heard the party halt under the gallows, and 
 pass some brutal jest, and go on. And that was all. 
 
 They could scarcely believe their ears; no, nor 
 their eyes, when a few minutes later, the street 
 being now quiet, they passed out, and stood in it 
 shuddering. For there swung the corpse dimly 
 outlined above them ! There ! Certainly there ! 
 The clerk seized his companion's arm and drew 
 him back. "It was the fiend!" he stammered. 
 "See, your father is still there! It was the fiend 
 who helped us ! "
 
 102 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 But at that the figure they were watching be- 
 came agitated; an instant and it slid gently to 
 the ground. It was the soldier. " ye gods ! " he 
 cried, bent double with silent laughter. " Saw you 
 ever such a trick? How I longed to kick, if it 
 were but my toe at them, and I forbore ! Fools ! 
 Did man ever see a body hung in its sword? But 
 it was a good trick, eh?" he continued, appealing 
 to them with a simple pride in his invention. "I 
 had the rope loose in my hand when they came, 
 and I drew it twice round my neck and one arm 
 trust me and swung off gently. It is not every one 
 who would have thought of that, my children ! " 
 
 It was odd. They shook with fear, and he with 
 laughter. He did not seem to give a thought to 
 the danger he had escaped. Pride in his readiness 
 and a keen sense of the humorous side of the inci- 
 dent possessed him entirely. At the very door of 
 the house he still chuckled from time to time; 
 muttering between the ebullitions, "Ah, I must 
 tell Diane! Diane will be pleased at that! It 
 was good ! Very good !" 
 
 Once in the house, however, he acted with more 
 delicacy than might have been imagined. He 
 stood aside while the other two carried the body 
 upstairs; and while they were absent, he waited 
 patiently in the bare room below, which showed 
 signs of occasional use as a stable. Here the clerk 
 Adrian presently found him, and murmured some 
 apology. Mistress Marie, he said, had fainted.
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 103 
 
 "A matter which afflicts you, my friend," the 
 soldier replied with a grimace, "about as much as 
 your master's death. Pooh, man, do not look 
 fierce ! Good luck to you and your suit. Only if 
 but this is no house for gallantry to-night I 
 had spruced myself and taken a part, you had 
 had to look to your one ewe lamb, I warrant 
 you!" 
 
 The clerk turned pale and red by turns. This 
 man seemed to read his thoughts as if he had in- 
 deed been the fiend. "What do you wish?" he 
 stammered. 
 
 " Only shelter until the early morning when the 
 streets are most quiet ; and a direction to the Rue 
 des Lombards." 
 
 "The Rue des Lombards?" 
 
 "Yes, why not?" But though the soldier still 
 smiled, the lines of his mouth hardened suddenly. 
 "Why not to the Rue des Lombards?" 
 
 "I know no reason why you should not be go- 
 ing there," the clerk replied boldly. "It was only 
 that the street is near; and a friend of my late 
 master's lives in it." 
 
 "His name?" 
 
 The clerk started; the question was put so 
 abruptly, and in a tone so imperious, it struck 
 him as it were a blow. "Nicholas Toussaint," he 
 answered involuntarily. 
 
 "Ay?" replied the other, raising his hand to his 
 chin and glancing at Adrian with a look that for
 
 104 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 all the world reminded him of an old print of the 
 eleventh Louis, which hung in a room at the 
 Hotel de Ville so keen and astute was it. "Your 
 master, young man, was of the moderate party 
 a Politique?" 
 
 "He was." 
 
 "A good man and a Catholic? one who loved 
 France? A Leaguer only in name?" the other 
 continued with vividness. 
 
 "Yes, that is so." 
 
 "But his son? He is a Leaguer out and out- 
 one who would rise to fortune on the flood tide of 
 the mob? A Sorbonnist? The priests have got 
 hold of him? He would do to others as they have 
 done to his father? A friend of Le Clerc and 
 Boucher? That is all so, is it not?" 
 
 Adrian nodded reluctantly. This strange man 
 confounded and yet fascinated him : this man so 
 reckless and gay one moment, so wary the next ; 
 exchanging in an instant the hail of a boon com- 
 panion for the tone of a noble. 
 
 "And is your young master also a friend of this 
 Nicholas Toussaint?" was the next question, 
 slowly put. 
 
 "No," said Adrian, "he has been forbidden the 
 house. M. Toussaint does not approve of his 
 opinions." 
 
 "That is so, is it?" the stranger rejoined with 
 his former gaiety. "And now enough: where will 
 you lodge me until morning?"
 
 FOE THE CAUSE 105 
 
 "If my closet will serve you," Felix answered 
 with a hesitation he would not have felt a few 
 minutes before, "it is at your will. I will bring 
 some food there at once, and will let you out if 
 you please at five." And Adrian added some sim- 
 ple directions, by following which his guest might 
 reach the Rue des Lombards without difficulty. 
 
 An hour later if the thoughts of those who lay 
 sleepless under that roof could have been traced, 
 strange contrasts would have appeared. Was 
 Felix Portail thinking of his dead father, or of his 
 sweetheart in the Eue des Lombards, or of his 
 schemes of ambition? Was he blaming the crew of 
 whom until to-day he had been one, or sullenly 
 cursing those factious Huguenots as the root of 
 the mischief? Was Adrian thinking of his kind 
 master, or of his master's daughter? Was the 
 guest dreaming of his narrow escape? or revolving 
 plans beside which Felix's were but the schemes 
 of a rat in a drain? Perhaps Marie alone for 
 Susanne slept a child's sleep of exhaustion had 
 her thoughts fixed on him, who only a few hours 
 before had been the centre of the household. 
 
 But such is life in troubled times. Pleasure and 
 pain come mingled, and men snatch the former 
 from the midst of the latter with a trembling joy, 
 a fierce eagerness : knowing that if they wait to 
 go a pleasuring until the sky be clear, they may 
 wait until nightfall. 
 
 When Adrian called his guest at cock-crow the
 
 106 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 latter rose briskly and followed him down to the 
 door. "Well, young sir," he said, pausing an in- 
 stant on the threshold, as he wrapped his cloak 
 round him and took his sheathed sword hi his 
 hand, "I am obliged to you. When I can do you 
 a service, I will." 
 
 "You can do me one now," the clerk replied 
 bluntly. "It is ill work having to do with stran- 
 gers in these days. You can tell me who you are, 
 and to which side you belong." 
 
 "Which side? I have told you my own. And 
 for the rest," the soldier continued, "I will give 
 you a hint." He brought his lips near to the 
 other's ear, and whispered, "Kiss Marie for me !" 
 
 The clerk looked up aflame with anger and sur- 
 prise; but the other was far gone striding down 
 the street. Yet Adrian received an answer to his 
 question. For as the stranger disappeared in the 
 gloom, he turned his head and broke with an 
 audacity that took away the listener's breath 
 into a well-known air, 
 
 " Hau I Hau I Papegots I 
 Faites place aux Huguenots 1" 
 
 and trilled it as merrily as if he had been in the 
 streets of Eochelle. 
 
 "Death !" the clerk exclaimed, getting back into 
 the house, and barring the door in a panic. "I 
 thought so. He is a Huguenot. But if he take 
 his neck out of Paris unstretched, he will have the 
 fiend's own luck, and the Bearnais' to boot!"
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 107 
 
 II 
 
 WHEN the clerk had re-mounted the stairs, he 
 heard voices in the back room. Felix and Marie 
 were in consultation. The girl was a different be- 
 ing this morning. The fire and fury of the night 
 had sunk to a still misery; and even to her, for 
 his sister's sake, it seemed over-dangerous to stay 
 in the house and confront the rage of the mob. 
 Mayenne might not after all return : and in that 
 case the Sixteen would assuredly wreak their spite 
 on all, however young or helpless, who might have 
 had to do with the removal of the body. "You 
 must seek shelter with some friend," Felix urged, 
 " before the city is astir. I can go to the Univer- 
 sity. I shall be safe there." 
 
 "Could you not take us with you?" Marie sug- 
 gested meekly. 
 
 He shook his head, his face flushing. It was 
 hard to confess that he had power to destroy, but 
 none to protect. "You had better go to Nicholas 
 Toussaint's," he said. "You will be safe there, 
 and he will take you in, though he will have 
 naught to do with me." 
 
 Marie assented with a sigh, and rose to make 
 ready. Some few valuables were hidden or secured, 
 some clothes taken; and then the little party of 
 four passed out into the street, leaving but one 
 solemn tenant in their home. The cold light of a 
 November morning gave to the lane an air, even
 
 108 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 in their eyes, of squalor and misery. The kennel 
 running down the middle was choked with nasti- 
 ness, while here and there the upper stories leaned 
 forward so far as to obscure the light. 
 
 The fugitives regarded these things little after 
 the first shivering glance, but hurried on their 
 road ; Felix with his sword marching on one side 
 of the girls, and Adrian with his club walking on 
 the other. A skulking dog got out of their way. 
 The song of a belated reveller drove them for a 
 time under an arch. But they fell in w r ith nothing 
 more formidable, and in five minutes came safely 
 to the high wooden gates of the courtyard in 
 front of Nicholas Toussaint's house. 
 
 To arouse him or his servants without dis- 
 turbing the neighbourhood was another matter. 
 There was no bell; only a heavy iron clapper. 
 Adrian tried this cautiously, with little hope of 
 being heard. To his joy the hollow sound had 
 scarcely ceased when footsteps were heard crossing 
 the court, and a small trap in one of the gates 
 was opened. An elderly man with high cheek 
 bones and curly grey hair looked out. His eyes 
 lighting on the girls lost their harshness. " Marie 
 Portail !" he exclaimed. "Ah ! poor thing, I pity 
 you. I have heard all. I returned to the city last 
 night only, or I should have been with you. And 
 Adrian?" 
 
 "We have come," said the young man, respect- 
 fully, "to beg shelter for Mistress Marie and her
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 109 
 
 sister. It is no longer safe for them to remain in 
 the Rue de Tirchape." 
 
 "I can well believe it," cried Toussaint, vigor- 
 ously. "I do not know where we are safe 
 nowadays. But there," he added in a different 
 tone, "no doubt the Sixteen are acting for the 
 best." 
 
 "You will take them in then?" said Adrian with 
 gratitude. 
 
 But to his astonishment the citizen shook his 
 head, while an awkward embarrassment twisted 
 his features. "It is impossible!" he said. 
 
 Adrian doubted if he had heard aright. Nicho- 
 las Toussaint was known for a bold man; one 
 whom the Sixteen disliked, and even suspected of 
 Huguenot leanings, but one too whom they had 
 not yet dared to attack. He was a dealer in 
 Norman horses, and this both led him to employ 
 many men, reckless daring fellows, and made him 
 in some degree necessary to the army. Adrian 
 had never doubted that he would shelter the 
 daughter of his old friend ; and his surprise on re- 
 ceiving this rebuff was extreme. 
 
 "But, Monsieur Toussaint " he urged and his 
 face reddened with generous warmth as he stood 
 forward. " My master is dead ! Foully murdered ! 
 He lies who says otherwise, though he be of the 
 Sixteen ! My mistress has few friends to protect 
 her, and those of small power. Will you send her 
 and the child from your door?"
 
 110 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Hush, Adrian/' the girl interposed, lifting her 
 head proudly, yet laying her hand on the clerk's 
 sleeve with a touch of acknowledgment that 
 brought the blood in redoubled force to his cheeks. 
 " Do not press our friend overmuch. If he will not 
 take us in from the streets, be sure he has some 
 good reason to offer." 
 
 But Toussaint was dumb. Shame a shame 
 augmented tenfold by the clerk's fearlessness was 
 so clearly written on his face, that Adrian uttered 
 none of the reproaches which hung on his lips. It 
 was Felix who came forward, and cried contemp- 
 tuously, "So you have grown strangely cautious 
 of a sudden, M. Toussaint?" 
 
 "Ha! I thought you were there, or there- 
 abouts ! " the horse-dealer replied, regaining his 
 composure at once, and eyeing him with strong 
 disfavour. 
 
 "But Felix and I," Adrian exclaimed eagerly, 
 "will fend for ourselves." 
 
 Toussaint shook his head. "It is impossible," 
 he said surlily. "Quite impossible!" 
 
 "Then hear me!" Felix interposed with excite- 
 ment. " You do not deceive me. It is not because 
 of your daughter that you have forbidden me the 
 house, and will not now protect my sister ! It is 
 because we shall learn too much. It is because 
 you have those under your roof, whom the crows 
 shall pick yet ! You, I will spare for Madeline's 
 pake ; but your spies J will string up, every one of
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 111 
 
 them by " and he swore a frightful oath, such 
 
 as the Romanists used. 
 
 Toussaint's face betrayed both fear and anger. 
 For an instant he seemed to hesitate. Then ex- 
 claiming, "Begone, parricide! You would have 
 killed your own father ! " he slammed the trap- 
 door, and was heard retreating up the yard with 
 a haste and clatter which indicated his uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 The four looked at one another. Daylight had 
 fully come. The noise of the altercation had 
 drawn more than one sleepy face to the window. 
 In a short time the streets would be alive with 
 people, and even a delay of a few minutes might 
 bring destruction. They thought of this; and 
 moved away slowly and reluctantly, Susanne 
 clinging to Adrian's arm, while Felix strode ahead 
 scowling. But when they had placed a hundred 
 yards or so between themselves and Toussaint's 
 gates, they stopped, a chill sense of desolation 
 upon them. Whither were they to go? Felix 
 urged that they should seek other friends and try 
 them. But Marie declined. If Nicholas Toussaint 
 dared not take them in, no other of their friends 
 would. She had given up hope, and longed only 
 to get back to their home, and the still form, 
 which it seemed to her she should never have de- 
 serted. 
 
 They were standing discussing this when a cry 
 caused them to turn. A girl was running hatless
 
 112 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 along the street; a girl tall and plump of figure, 
 with a creamy slightly freckled face, a glory of 
 waving golden hair upon her shoulders, and great 
 grey eyes that could laugh and cry at once, even 
 as they were doing now. "My poor Marie," she 
 exclaimed, taking her in her arms; "my poor lit- 
 tle one ! Come back ! You are to come back at 
 once !" Then disengaging herself, with a blushing 
 cheek, she allowed Felix to embrace her. But 
 though that young gentleman made full use of his 
 permission, his face did not clear. "Your father 
 has just turned my sister from his door," he said 
 bitterly, "as he turned me a month ago." 
 
 She looked at him with a tender upward glance 
 meant for him only. "Hush!" she begged him. 
 "Do not speak so of my father. And he has sent 
 to fetch them back. He says he cannot keep them 
 himself, but if they will come in and rest he will 
 see them safely disposed. Will not that do?" 
 
 "Excellently, Miss Madeline," Adrian cried with 
 gratitude. "And we thank your father a thou- 
 sand times." 
 
 "Nay, but " she said slyly "that permission 
 does not extend to you." 
 
 "What matter?" 
 
 "What matter if Marie be safe you mean," she 
 replied demurely. "Well, I would I had so gallant 
 a clerk," with a glance at her own handsome 
 lover. "But come, my father is waiting at the 
 gate for us." And she urged haste, notwithstand-
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 113 
 
 ing which she and Felix were the last to turn. 
 When she at length ran after the others her cheeks 
 betrayed her. 
 
 "I can see what you have been doing, girl," her 
 father cried, meeting her within the door. "For 
 shame, hussy I Go to your room, and take your 
 friends with you." And he aimed a light blow at 
 her, which she easily evaded. 
 
 "They will need breakfast," she persisted. She 
 had seen her lover, and though the interview 
 might have had its drawbacks best known to 
 herself she cared little for a blow in comparison 
 with that. 
 
 "They will take it in your room," he retorted. 
 "Come, pack, girl! Pack! I will talk to you 
 presently," he added, with meaning. 
 
 The Portails drew her away. To them her room 
 was a haven of rest, where they felt safe, and 
 could pour out their grief, and let her pity and 
 indignation soothe them. The horror of the 
 last twenty-four hours began to fall from them. 
 They seemed to themselves to be outcasts no 
 longer. 
 
 In the afternoon Toussaint reappeared. "On 
 with your hoods," he cried briskly, his good hu- 
 mour re-established. "I and half a dozen stout 
 lads will see you to a place where you can lie 
 snug for a week." 
 
 Marie asked timidly about her father's funeral. 
 
 " I will see to it, little one," he answered. "I will let 
 8
 
 114 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the curate of St. Germain know. He will do what 
 is seemly if the mob let him," he added to himself. 
 
 "But, father," cried Madeline, "where are you 
 going to take them?" 
 
 "To Thilip Boj^er's." 
 
 " What !" the girl cried in much surprise. "His 
 house is small and Philip and his wife are old and 
 feeble." 
 
 "True," answered Toussaint. "But his hutch is 
 under the Duchess's roof. There is a touch of our 
 great man about Madame. Mayenne the crowd 
 neither overmuch love, nor much fear. He will die 
 in his bed. But with his sister it is a word and a 
 blow. The Sixteen will not touch aught that is 
 under her roof." 
 
 The Duchess de Montpensier was the sister of 
 Henry Duke of Guise, Henry the Scarred, Our 
 great man, as the Parisians loved to call him. 
 He had been assassinated in the antechamber of 
 Henry of Valois some two years before this time ; 
 and she had become the soul of the League, hav- 
 ing more of the headstrong nature which had 
 made him popular, than either of his brothers, 
 Mayenne or D'Aumale. 
 
 "I see," said Madeline, kissing the girls, "you 
 are right, father." 
 
 "Impertinent baggage!" he cried. "To your 
 prayers and your needle. And see that while we 
 are away you keep close, and do not venture into 
 the courtyard even,"
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 115 
 
 She was not a nervous girl, and she was used to 
 be alone ; but the bare, roomy house seemed lonely 
 after her father and his party had set out. She 
 wandered to the kitchen where the two old women- 
 servants were preparing, with the aid of a turn- 
 spit, the early supper ; there she learned that only 
 old Simon, the lame ostler, was left in the stables, 
 which stood on either side of the courtyard. This 
 was not re-assuring news : the more as Madeline 
 knew her father might not return for another 
 hour. She went thence to the long eating-room 
 on the first floor, which ran the full depth of the 
 house, and had one window looking to the back 
 as well as several facing the courtyard. Here she 
 opened the door of the stove, and let the cheery 
 glow play upon her. 
 
 Presently she grew tired of this, too, and moved 
 to the rearward window. It looked upon a nar- 
 row lane, and a dead wall. Still, there was a 
 chance of seeing some one pass, some stranger; 
 whereas the windows which looked on the empty 
 courtyard were no windows at all to Madeline. 
 
 The girl had not long looked out before her pale 
 complexion, which the fire had scarcely warmed, 
 grew hot. She started, and glanced nervously 
 into the room behind her ; then looked out again. 
 She had seen, standing in a nook of the wall op- 
 posite her, a figure she knew well. It was that of 
 her lover, and he seemed to be watching the house. 
 Timidly she waved her hand to him, and he, after
 
 116 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 looking up and down the lane, advanced to the 
 window. He could do this safely, for it was 
 the only window in the Toussaints' house which 
 looked that way. 
 
 "Are you alone?" he whispered, looking up at 
 her. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " And my sisters? I am here to learn what has 
 become of them." 
 
 "Have gone to Philip Boyer's. He lives in one 
 of the cottages on the left of the Duchess's court." 
 
 "Ah! And you? Where is your father?" he 
 murmured. 
 
 "He has gone to take them. I am alone; and 
 two minutes ago I was melancholy," she added, 
 with a smile that should have made him happy. 
 
 "I want to talk to you," he replied. "May I 
 climb up if I can, Madeline?" 
 
 She shook her head, which of course meant, no. 
 And she said, "It is impossible." But she smiled; 
 and that meant, yes. Or so he took it. 
 
 There was a pipe which ran up the wall a couple 
 of feet or so on one side of the casement. Before 
 she understood his plan, or that he was in earn- 
 est, he had gripped this, and was halfway up to 
 the window. 
 
 "Oh, take care," she cried. "Do not come, 
 Felix. Do not come. My father will never forgive 
 you ! " Woman-like she repented, when it was too 
 late. But he did not listen, he came on, and when
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 117 
 
 his hand was stretched out to grasp the sill, all 
 her fear was lest he should fall. She seized his 
 wrist, and helped him in. Then she drew back. 
 "You should not have done it, Felix," she said, 
 drawing back from him with reproof in her eyes. 
 
 "But I wanted to see you so much," he urged, 
 "and the glimpse I had of you this morning was 
 nothing." 
 
 "Well, you may come to the stove and warm 
 yourself a moment. Oh ! how cold your hands 
 are, my poor boy ! But you must not stay. In- 
 deed you must not!" And she cast terrified 
 glances at the door. 
 
 But stolen moments are sweet and apt to be 
 long drawn out. She had a great deal to say, and 
 he had a great deal it seemed to ask so much to 
 ask indeed, that gradually a dim sense that he 
 was asking about other things than herself about 
 her father and the ways of the house, and what 
 guests they had, came over her. 
 
 It chilled her. She drew away from him, and 
 said, suddenly, "Oh, Felix !" and looked at him. 
 
 Nothing more. But he understood her and 
 coloured ; and tried to ask, but asked awkwardly, 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 "I know of what you are thinking," she said 
 with grave sorrow. "And it is base of you, it is 
 cruel ! You would use even me whom you love 
 to ruin my friends!" 
 
 "Hush!" he answered, letting his gloomy pas-
 
 118 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 sion have vent for the moment, "they are not 
 your friends, Madeline. See what they have done 
 for me. It is they, or the troubles they have set 
 on foot, that have killed my father!" And he 
 swore carried away by his mistaken resentment 
 never again to spare a Huguenot save her father 
 and one other. 
 
 She trembled and tried to close her ears. Her 
 father had told her a hundred times that she could 
 not be happy with a husband divided from her by 
 a gulf so wide. She had said to him that it was 
 too late. She had given Felix her heart and she 
 was a woman. She could not take it back, though 
 she knew that nothing but unhappiness could 
 come of the match. 
 
 " God forgive you ! " she cried in that moment of 
 strained insight ; and sank in her chair as though 
 she would weep. 
 
 He fell on his knees beside her with words of en- 
 dearment; for he had conquered himself again. 
 And she let him soothe her, and would gladly 
 have believed him. She had never loved him more 
 than now, when she knew the price she must pay 
 for him. She closed her eyes for the moment 
 to that terrible future, that certain future ; and he 
 was holding her in his arms, when without warn- 
 ing a heavy footstep began to ascend the stairs. 
 
 They sprang apart. If even then he had had 
 presence of mind, he might have reached the win- 
 dow. But he hesitated, looking in her startled
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 119 
 
 eyes, and waiting. "Is it your father?" he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 She shook her head. " He cannot have returned. 
 We should have heard the gates opened. There is 
 no one in the house," she murmured faintly, 
 listening while she spoke. 
 
 But still the footsteps came on : and stopped at 
 the door. Felix looked round him with eyes of 
 despair. Close beside him, just behind the stove, 
 was the door of a closet. He took two strides, 
 and before he or she had thought of the conse- 
 quences, he was in the closet. Softly he drew the 
 door to again ; and she sank terrified on a chair, 
 as the door of the room opened. 
 
 He who came in was not her father but a man 
 of thirty-five, a stranger to her. A man with a 
 projecting chin. His keen grey eyes wore at the 
 moment of his entrance an expression of boredom 
 and petulance, but when he caught sight of her, 
 this passed, as a cloud from the sky. He came 
 across the floor smiling. " Pardon me," he said 
 but said it as if no pardon were needed, "I found 
 the stables insupportably dull. I set out on a 
 voyage of discovery. I have found my America I" 
 And he bowed in a style which puzzled the fright- 
 ened girl. 
 
 "You want to see my father?" she stammered, 
 "He " 
 
 "He has gone to the Duchess's. I know it. 
 And very ill-natured it was of him to leave me in
 
 120 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the stable, instead of entrusting me to your care, 
 mistress. La Noue," he continued, "is in the 
 stable still, asleep on a bundle of hay, and a 
 pretty commotion there will be when he finds I 
 have stolen away ! " 
 
 Laughing with an easy carelessness that struck 
 the citizen's daughter with fresh astonishment, the 
 stranger drew up the armchair, which was com- 
 monly held sacred to M. Toussaint's use, and 
 threw himself into it; lazily disposing his booted 
 feet in the glow which poured from the stove, and 
 looking across at his companion with admiration 
 in his bold eyes. At another time she might 
 have been offended by the look : or she might 
 not. Women are variable. Now her fears lest Felix 
 should be discovered dulled her apprehension. 
 
 Yet the name of La Noue had caught her ear. 
 She knew it well, as all France and the Low Coun- 
 tries knew it in those days, for the name of one of 
 the boldest and stanchest soldiers on the Hugue- 
 not side. 
 
 "La Noue?" she murmured, misty suspicions 
 beginning to take form in her mind. 
 - "Yes, pretty one," he replied, laughing. "La 
 Noue and no other. Does Bras-de-fer pass for an 
 ogre here in Paris that you tremble so at his 
 name? Let me " 
 
 But whatever the proposition he was going to 
 offer, it came to nothing. The dull clash of the 
 gates outside warned both of them that Nicholas
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 121 
 
 Toussaint and his party had returned. A moment 
 later a hasty tread sounded on the stairs; and 
 an elderly man wearing a cloak burst in upon 
 them. 
 
 His eyes swept the room while his hand still held 
 the door; and it was clear that what he saw 
 did not please him. He came forward stiffly, his 
 brows knitted. But he said nothing; he seemed 
 uncertain and embarrassed. 
 
 "See!" the first comer said, looking quietly up 
 at him, but not offering to move. "Now what do 
 you think of your ogre? And by the rood he 
 looks fierce enough to eat babes ! There, old 
 friend," he continued, speaking to the elder man 
 in a different tone, "spare your lecture. This is 
 Toussaint's daughter, and as staunch I will war- 
 rant as her father." 
 
 The old noble he had but one arm, she saw- 
 still looked at her with disfavour. "Girls have 
 sweethearts, sire," he said shrewdly. 
 
 For a moment at that word the room seemed 
 to go round with her. Though something more of 
 reproach and playful defence passed between the 
 two men, she heard not a syllable of it. The con- 
 sciousness that her lover was listening to every 
 word, and that from this moment La Noue's life 
 was in his hands, numbed her brain. She sat 
 helpless, hardly aware that half a dozen men were 
 entering, her father one of them. When a lamp 
 was called for it was growing dark she did not
 
 122 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 stir : and Toussaint, who had not seen her, fetched 
 it himself. 
 
 By the time he came back she had partly recov- 
 ered her wits. She noted that her father locked 
 the door with care before he set the lamp on the 
 table. As its light fell on the harsh features of 
 the men, a ray passed between two of them, and 
 struck her pale face. Her father saw her and 
 stared in astonishment. 
 
 "By heaven !" he cried. "What does the wench 
 here?" No one answered; but all turned and 
 looked at her where she cowered back against the 
 stove. "Go, girl!" Toussaint cried, beside him- 
 self with passion. "Begone! and presently I will 
 deal with you !" 
 
 "Nay, stop!" La Noue interposed. "Your 
 daughter knows too much. We cannot let her go 
 thus." 
 
 "Knows too much? How?" and the citizen 
 tossed his head like a bull balked in his charge. 
 "What does she know?" 
 
 "His majesty " 
 
 "Nay, let his majesty speak for himself for 
 once," said the man with the grey eyes; and even 
 in her terror and confusion Madeline saw that all 
 turned to him with a single movement. " Mistress 
 Toussaint did but chat with La Noue and myself, 
 during her father's absence. True, she knows us ; 
 or one of us. But if any be to blame it is I. Let 
 her stay. I will answer for her fidelity."
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 123 
 
 "Nay, but she is a woman, sire," some one 
 objected. 
 
 "Ay, she is, good Poulain," and Henry turned 
 to the speaker with a singularly bright smile. 
 "So we are safe; for there is no woman in France 
 would betray Henry of Bourbon!" 
 
 A laugh went round. Some one mentioned the 
 Duchess. 
 
 "True !" said Henry, for Henry it was, he whom 
 the Leaguers called the Bearnais and the Politiques 
 the King of Navarre, but whom later generations 
 have crowned as the first of French kings Henry 
 the Great. "True! I had forgotten her. I must 
 beware of her golden scissors. We have two 
 crowns already, and want not another of her mak- 
 ing. But come, let us to business without farther 
 delay. Be seated, gentlemen; be seated without 
 ceremony : and while we consider whether our 
 plans hold good, Mistress Toussaint " he paused 
 and turned, to look kindly at the terrified girl 
 "will play the sentry for us." 
 
 Madeline's presence within a few feet of their 
 council-board was soon forgotten by the eager 
 men who sat round the table. And in a sense she 
 forgot them. She heard, it is true, their hopes 
 and plans, of which the chief, and that which 
 brought them together to-day, was a scheme to 
 surprise Paris by introducing men hidden in carts 
 laden with hay. She heard how Henry and La 
 Noue had entered, and who had brought them in,
 
 124 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 and how it was proposed to smuggle them out 
 again; and many details of men and means and 
 horses; and who were loyal and who disaffected, 
 and who might be bought over, and at what 
 price. She even took note of the manner of each 
 speaker as he leaned forward, and brought his face 
 within the circle of light, marking who were known 
 to her before, substantial citizens these, constant 
 at mass and market; and who were strangers, 
 men fiercer looking, thinner, haughtier, more rest- 
 less, with the stamp of constant peril at the 
 corners of their eyes, and swords some inches 
 longer than their neighbours'. 
 
 She saw and heard all this, and more, and rea- 
 soned dully on it. But all the time her mind was 
 paralysed by the numbing sense of one great evil 
 awaiting her, of something with which she must 
 presently come face to face, though her faculties 
 had not grasped it yet. Men's lives ! Ah, yes, 
 men's lives ! The girl had been bred a Huguenot. 
 She had been taught to revere the men of the reli- 
 gion, the men whose names were household words ; 
 and not the weakness of the cause, not even her 
 lover's influence, had sapped her loyalty to it. 
 
 Presently there was a stir about the table. 
 Some of the men rose. "Then that arrangement 
 meets your views, sire?" said La Noue. 
 
 "I think it is the better suggestion. Let it 
 hold. I sleep to-night at my good friend Ma- 
 zeau's," the king answered, turning to the person
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 125 
 
 he named; "and leave to-morrow about noon 
 by St. Martin's gate. That is understood, is it? 
 Then let it stand so." 
 
 He did not see none of them saw how the girl 
 in the shadow by the stove started ; nor did they 
 mark how the last trace of colour fled from her 
 cheeks. She was face to face with her fate now, 
 and knew that her own hand must work it 
 out. The men were separating. Henry had risen 
 and was bidding farewell to one and another; 
 until no more than four or five beside Toussaint 
 and La Noue remained with him. Then he pre- 
 pared himself to go, and girt on his sword, talk- 
 ing earnestly the while. Still engaged in low con- 
 verse with one of the strangers, he walked slowly, 
 lighted by his host to the door ; he had forgotten 
 to take leave of the girl. In another minute he 
 and they would have disappeared in the passage, 
 when a hoarse sound escaped from Madeline's lips. 
 
 It was not so much a cry as a groan, but it 
 was enough for men whose nerves were strained to 
 the breaking point. All at the moment they had 
 their backs to her, their faces to the king turned 
 swiftly. "Ha!" Henry cried on the instant, "I 
 had forgotten my manners. I was leaving my 
 most faithful sentry without a word of thanks, 
 or a keepsake by which to remember Henry of 
 France." 
 
 She had risen, and was supporting herself but 
 she swayed as she stood by the arm of the chair.
 
 126 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Never had her lover been so dear to her; never 
 had his faults seemed so small, his love so pre- 
 cious. As the king approached, the light fell on 
 her face, on her agonized eyes, and he stopped 
 short. " Toussaint ! " he cried sharply, "your 
 daughter is ill. Look to her ! " But it was no- 
 ticeable that he laid his hand on his sword. 
 
 "Stay!" she cried, the word ringing shrilly 
 through the room. " You are betrayed ! There is 
 some one there ! " she pointed to the closet " who 
 has heard all ! All ! Oh, sire, mercy ! mercy ! " 
 
 As the last words passed the girl's writhing lips 
 she clutched at her throat : she seemed to fight a 
 moment for breath, for life : then with a stifled 
 shriek fell in a swoon to the ground. 
 
 A second's silence. Then a whistling sound as 
 half a dozen swords were snatched from the scab- 
 bards. The veteran La Noue sprang to the door : 
 others ran to the windows and stood before them. 
 Only Henry after a swift glance at Toussaint, 
 who, pale and astonished, leaned over his daughter 
 stood still, his fingers on his hilt. Another sec- 
 ond of suspense, and before any one spoke, the 
 cupboard door swung slowly open, and Felix Por- 
 tail, pale to the lips, stood before them. 
 
 "What do you here?" cried Henry, restraining 
 by a gesture those who would have instantly 
 flung themselves upon the spy. 
 
 "I came to see her," Felix said. He was quite 
 calm, but a perspiration cold as death stood on
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 127 
 
 his brow, and his dilated eyes wandered from 
 one to another. "You surprised me. Toussaint 
 knows that I was her sweetheart," he murmured. 
 
 "Ay, wretched man, you came to see her ! And 
 for what else?" Henry replied, his eyes, as a rule, 
 so kindly, bent on the other in a gaze fixed and 
 relentless. 
 
 A sudden visible quiver as it were the agony of 
 death shot through PortaiTs frame. He opened 
 his mouth, but for a while no sound came. His 
 eyes sought the nearest sword with a horrid side- 
 glance. "Kill me at once," he gasped, "before 
 she before ' ' 
 
 He never finished the sentence. With an oath 
 the nearest Huguenot lunged at his breast, and 
 fell back foiled by a blow from the king's hand. 
 "Back !" cried Henry, his eyes flashing as another 
 sprang forward, and would have done the work. 
 "Will you trench on the King's justice in his 
 presence? Sheath your swords, all save the Sieur 
 de la Noue, and the gentlemen who guard the 
 windows ! " 
 
 "He must die!" several voices cried; and two 
 men still pressed forward viciously. 
 
 "Think, sire! Think what you do," cried fea 
 Noue himself, warning in his voice. "He has in 
 his hand the life of every man here! And they 
 are your men, risking all for the crown." 
 
 "True," Henry replied smiling; "but I ask no 
 man to run a risk I will not take myself,"
 
 128 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 A murmur of dissatisfaction burst forth. Sev- 
 eral who had sheathed, drew their swords again. 
 "I have a wife and child 1" cried one, bringing his 
 point to the thrust. "He dies!" 
 
 " He dies ! " cried another following his example. 
 And the two pressed forward. 
 
 "He does not die!" exclaimed the King, his 
 voice so ringing through the room that all fell 
 back once more ; fell back not so much because it 
 was the king who spoke as in obedience to the 
 voice which two years before had rallied the flying 
 squadrons at Arques, and years before that had 
 rung out hour after hour and day after day above 
 the long street fight of Cahors. "He does not 
 die!" repeated Henry, looking from one to an- 
 other, with his chin thrust out, and his eyes glit- 
 tering. "France speaks, dare any contradict. 
 Surely, my masters, there are no traitors here!" 
 
 "Your majesty," said La Noue after a moment's 
 pause, "commands our lives." 
 
 "Thanks, Francis," Henry replied, instantly 
 changing his tone. "And now hear me, gentle- 
 men. Think you that it was a light thing in this 
 girl to give up her lover? She might have let us 
 go to our doom, and we none the wiser ! Would 
 you take her gift and make her no requital? 
 That were not just ! That were not royal ! That 
 cannot the King of France do I And now for you, 
 sir" he turned with another manner to Felix, 
 who was leaning half-fainting against the wall
 
 FOR THE CAUSE 129 
 
 "hearken to me. You shall go free. I, who this 
 morning played the son to your dead father, I 
 give you your life for your sweetheart's sake. For 
 her sake be true. You shall go out alive and safe 
 into the streets of Paris, which five minutes ago 
 you little thought to see again. The girl you love 
 has ransomed you : go therefore and be worthy of 
 her. Or if I am wrong, if you still will betray me 
 still go ! Go to be damned to all eternity ! Go, 
 to leave a name that shall live for centuries and 
 stand for treachery!" 
 
 He spoke the last words with such scorn that a 
 murmur of applause broke out even among those 
 stern men. He took instant advantage of it. 
 " Now go ! " he said hurriedly. "You can take the 
 girl with you. She has but fainted. A kiss will 
 bring her to life. Go, and, as you love, be silent." 
 
 The man took up his burden and went, trem- 
 bling; still unable to speak. But no hand was 
 now raised to stop him. 
 
 When he had disappeared, La Noue turned to the 
 king. "You will not now sleep at Mazeau's, sire?" 
 
 Henry rubbed his chin. "Yes; let the plan 
 stand," he answered after a brief pause. "If he 
 betray one, he shall betray all." 
 
 "But this is madness," La Noue urged. 
 
 The King shook his head, and smiling, clapped 
 the veteran on the shoulder. "Not so," he said. 
 "The man is no traitor : I say it. And you have 
 never met with a longer head than Henry's."
 
 130 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Never," assented La None bluntly, "save when 
 there is a woman in it ! " 
 
 The curtain falls. The men have lived and are 
 dead. La None, the Huguenot Bayard, now ex- 
 ists only in a dusty memoir and a page of Mot- 
 ley. Madame de Montpensier is forgotten; all of 
 her, save her golden scissors. Mayenne, D'Aumale, 
 a verse preserves their names. Only Henry the 
 "good King," as generations of French peasants 
 called him remains a living figure : his strength 
 and weakness, his sins and virtues, as well known, 
 as thoroughly appreciated by thousands now as 
 in the days of his life. 
 
 It follows that we cannot hope to learn much of 
 the fortunes of people so insignificant save for 
 that moment when the fate of a nation hung on 
 their breath as the Portails and Toussaints. We 
 do know that Felix proved worthy. For though 
 the attack on Paris which was planned at Tous- 
 saint's house, failed, it did not fail through treach- 
 ery. And we know that Felix married Madeline, 
 and that Adrian won Marie : but no more. Unless 
 certain Portails now living in various parts of the 
 world, whose ancestors left France at the time of 
 the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, are their 
 descendants. And certainly it is curious that in 
 these families it is not rare to find the eldest son 
 bearing the name of Henry, and the second of 
 Felix,
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 
 
 IN the days when Henry the Fourth of France 
 was as yet King of Navarre only, and in that 
 little kingdom of hills and woods which occupies 
 the south-western corner of the larger country, 
 was with difficulty supporting the Huguenot cause 
 against the French court and the Catholic League 
 in the days when every little moated town, from 
 the Dordogne to the Pyrenees, was a bone of con- 
 tention between the young king and the crafty 
 queen-mother, Catherine de Medicis, a conference 
 between these warring personages took place in 
 the picturesque town of La Eeole. And great was 
 the fame of it. 
 
 La Reole still rises grey, time-worn, and half- 
 ruined on a lofty cliff above the broad green 
 waters of the Garonne, forty odd miles from Bor- 
 deaux. It is a small place now, but in the days 
 of which we are speaking it was important, 
 strongly fortified, and guarded by a castle which 
 looked down on some hundreds of red-tiled roofs, 
 rising in terraces from the river. As the meeting- 
 place of the two sovereigns it was for the time as 
 gay as Paris itself. Catherine had brought with 
 her a bevy of fair maids of honour, and trusted 
 more perhaps in the effect of their charms than in
 
 132 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 her own diplomacy. But the peaceful appearance 
 of the town was as delusive as the smooth bosom 
 of the Gironde ; for even while every other house in 
 its streets rang with music and silvery laughter, 
 each party was ready to fly to arms at a word 
 if it saw that any advantage could be gained 
 thereby. 
 
 On an evening shortly before the end of the con- 
 ference two men were seated at play in a room, 
 the deep-embrasured window of which looked down 
 from a considerable height upon the river. The 
 hour was late; below them the town lay silent. 
 Outside, the moonlight fell bright and pure on 
 sleeping fields, on vineyards, and dark far-spread- 
 ing woods. Within the room a silver lamp sus- 
 pended from the ceiling threw light upon the 
 table, but left the farther parts of the chamber in 
 shadow. The walls were hung with faded tapestry, 
 and on a low bedstead in one corner lay a hand- 
 some cloak, a sword, and one of the clumsy pis- 
 tols of the period. Across a high-backed chair lay 
 another cloak and sword, and on the window 
 seat, beside a pair of saddle-bags, were strewn 
 half a dozen trifles such as soldiers carried from 
 camp to camp a silver comfit-box, a jewelled 
 dagger, a mask, a velvet cap. 
 
 The faces of the players, as they bent over the 
 cards, were in shadow. One a slight, dark man 
 of middle height, with a weak chin and a mouth 
 that would have equally betrayed its weakness
 
 THE KING'S STKATAGEM 133 
 
 had it not been shaded by a dark moustache 
 seemed, from the occasional oaths which he let 
 drop, to be losing heavily. Yet his opponent, a 
 stouter and darker man, with a sword-cut across 
 his left temple, and the swaggering air that has 
 at all times marked the professional soldier, 
 showed no signs of triumph or elation. On the 
 contrary, though he kept silence, or spoke only a 
 formal word or two, there was a gleam of anxiety 
 and suppressed excitement in his eyes; and more 
 than once he looked keenly at his companion, as 
 if to judge of his feelings or to learn whether the 
 time had come for some experiment which he medi- 
 tated. But for this, an observer looking in 
 through the window would have taken the two 
 for that common conjunction the hawk and the 
 pigeon. 
 
 At last the younger player threw down his cards 
 with an exclamation. 
 
 "You have the luck of the evil one," he said, 
 bitterly. "How much is that?" 
 
 "Two thousand crowns," the other replied 
 without emotion. "You will play no more?" 
 
 "No! I wish to heaven I had never played at 
 all ! " was the answer. As he spoke the loser rose, 
 and moving to the window stood looking out. 
 For a few moments the elder man remained in his 
 seat, gazing furtively at him; at length he too 
 rose, and, stepping softly to his companion, he 
 touched him on the shoulder. "Your pardon a
 
 134 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 moment, M. le Vicomte," he said. " Am I right in 
 concluding that the loss of this sum will incon- 
 venience you?" 
 
 "A thousand fiends!" the young gamester ex- 
 claimed, turning on him wrathmlly. "Is there 
 any man whom the loss of two thousand crowns 
 would not inconvenience? As for me " 
 
 "For you," the other continued smoothly, fill- 
 ing up the pause, "shall I be wrong in supposing 
 that it means something like ruin?" 
 
 "Well, sir, and if it does?" the young man re- 
 torted ; and he drew himself up, his cheek a shade 
 paler with passion. " Depend upon it you shall be 
 paid. Do not be afraid of that ! " 
 
 "Gently, gently, my friend," the winner an- 
 swered, his patience in strong contrast to the 
 other's violence. "I had no intention of insulting 
 you, believe me. Those who play with the Vi- 
 comte de Noirterre are not wont to doubt his 
 honour. I spoke only in your own interest. It 
 has occurred to me, Vicomte, that the matter may 
 be arranged at less cost to yourself." 
 
 "How?" was the curt question. 
 
 "May I speak freely?" The Vicomte shrugged 
 his shoulders, and the other, taking silence for 
 consent, proceeded: "You, Vicomte, are governor 
 of Lusigny for the King of Navarre ; I, of Creance, 
 for the King of France. Our towns lie but three 
 leagues apart. Could I by any chance, say on 
 one of these fine nights, make myself master of
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 135 
 
 Lusigny, it would be worth more than two thou- 
 sand crowns to me. Do you understand?" 
 
 "No," the young man answered slowly, "I do 
 not." 
 
 "Think over what I have said, then," was the 
 brief answer. 
 
 For a full minute there was silence in the room. 
 The Vicomte gazed from the window with knitted 
 brows and compressed lips, while his companion, 
 seated near at hand, leant back in his chair, 
 with an air of affected carefulness. Outside, the 
 rattle of arms and hum of voices told that the 
 watch were passing through the street. The 
 church bell rang one o'clock. Suddenly the Vi- 
 comte burst into a forced laugh, and, turning, 
 took up his cloak and sword. "The trap was 
 well laid, M. le Capitaine," he said almost jovi- 
 ally; "but I am still sober enough to take care 
 of myself and of Lusigny. I wish you good 
 night. You shall have your money, do not fear." 
 
 "Still, I am afraid it will cost you dearly," the 
 Captain answered, as he rose and moved towards 
 the door to open it for his guest. And then, when 
 his hand was already on the latch, he paused. 
 "My lord," he said, "what do you say to this, 
 then? I will stake the two thousand crowns you 
 have lost to me, and another thousand to boot 
 against your town. Oh, no one can hear us. If 
 you win you go off a free man with my thousand. 
 If you lose, you put me in possession one of these
 
 136 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 fine nights. Now, that is an offer. What do you 
 say to it? A single game to decide." 
 
 The younger man's face reddened. He turned ; 
 his eyes sought the table and the cards ; he stood 
 irresolute. The temptation came at an unfortu- 
 nate moment; a moment when the excitement of 
 play had given way to depression, and he saw 
 nothing outside the door, on the latch of which 
 his hand was laid, but the bleak reality of ruin. 
 The temptation to return, the thought that by a 
 single hand he might set himself right with the 
 world, was too much for him. Slowly he came 
 back to the table. "Confound you!" he said 
 passionately. " I think you are the devil himself ! " 
 
 "Don't talk child's talk!" the other answered 
 coldly, drawing back as his victim advanced. "If 
 you do not like the offer you need not take it." 
 
 But the young man was a born gambler, and 
 his fingers had already closed on the cards. Pick- 
 ing them up idly he dropped them once, twice, 
 thrice on the table, his eyes gleaming with the 
 play-fever. "If I win?" he said doubtfully. 
 "What then? Let us have it quite clearly." 
 
 "You carry away a thousand crowns," the 
 Captain answered quietly. "If you lose you con- 
 trive to leave one of the gates of Lusigny open 
 for me before next full moon. That is all." 
 
 "And what if I lose, and do not pay the for- 
 feit?" the Vicomte asked, laughing weakly. 
 
 "I trust to your honour," the Captain an-
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 137 
 
 swered. And, strange as it may seem, he knew his 
 man. The young noble of the day might betray 
 his cause and his trust, but the debt of honour 
 incurred at play was binding on him. 
 
 "Well," said the Vicomte, with a deep breath, 
 "I agree. Who is to deal?" 
 
 "As you will," the Captain replied, masking 
 under an appearance of indifference the excitement 
 which darkened his cheek, and caused the pulse in 
 the old wound on his face to beat furiously. 
 
 "Then do you deal," said the Vicomte. 
 
 "With your permission," the Captain assented. 
 And gathering the cards he dealt them with a 
 practised hand, and pushed his opponent's six 
 across to him. 
 
 The young man took up the hand and, as he 
 sorted it, and looked from it to his companion's 
 face, he repressed a groan with difficulty. The 
 moonlight shining through the casement fell in 
 silvery sheen on a few feet of the floor. With the 
 light something of the silence and coolness of the 
 night entered also, and appealed to him. For a 
 few seconds he hesitated. He made even as if he 
 would have replaced the hand on the table. But 
 he had gone too far to retrace his steps with 
 honour. It was too late, and with a muttered 
 word, which his dry lips refused to articulate, he 
 played the first card. 
 
 He took that trick and the next : they were 
 secure.
 
 138 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "And now," said the Captain, who knew well 
 where the pinch came. "What next?" 
 
 The Vicomte compressed his lips. Two courses 
 were open to him. By adopting one he could 
 almost for certain win one more trick : by the 
 other he might just possibly win two tricks. He 
 was a gamester; he adopted the latter course. 
 In half a minute it was over. He had lost ! 
 
 The winner nodded gravely. "The luck is with 
 me still," he said, keeping his eyes on the table 
 that the light of triumph which had leapt into 
 them might not be seen. "When do you go back 
 to your command, Vicomte?" 
 
 The unhappy man sat, as one stunned, his eyes 
 on the painted cards which had cost him so 
 dearly. "The day after to-morrow," he muttered 
 at last, striving to collect himself. 
 
 "Then shall we say the following evening?" 
 the Captain asked courteously. 
 
 The young man shivered. "As you will," he 
 muttered. 
 
 "We quite understand one another," continued 
 the winner, eyeing his man watchfully, and speak- 
 ing with more urgency. "I may depend on you, 
 M. le Vicomte, I presume to keep your word?" 
 
 "The Noirterres have never been wanting to 
 their word," the young nobleman answered stung 
 into passing passion. " If I live I will put Lusigny 
 into your hands, M. le Capitaine. Afterwards I 
 will do my best to recover it in another way."
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 139 
 
 "I shall be most happy to meet you in that 
 way," replied the Captain, bowing lightly. And 
 in one more minute, the door of his lodging had 
 closed on the other ; and he was alone alone with 
 his triumph, his ambition, his hopes for the future 
 alone with the greatness to which his capture of 
 Lusigny was to be the first step. He would enjoy 
 that greatness not a whit the less because fortune 
 had hitherto dealt out to him more blows than 
 caresses, and he was still at forty, after a score of 
 years of roughest service, the governor of a paltry 
 country town. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the darkness of the narrow streets, 
 the Vicomte was making his way to his lodgings 
 in a state of despair difficult to describe, impos- 
 sible to exaggerate. Chilled, sobered, and af- 
 frighted he looked back and saw how he had 
 thrown for all and lost all, how he had saved the 
 dregs of his fortune at the expense of his loyalty, 
 how he had seen a way of escape and lost it for 
 ever ! No wonder that as he trudged through the 
 mud and darkness of the sleeping tow r n his breath 
 came quickly and his chest heaved, and he looked 
 from side to side as a hunted animal might look, 
 uttering great sighs. Ah, if he could have retraced 
 the last three hours ! If he could have undone 
 that he had done! 
 
 In a fever, he entered his lodging, and securing 
 the door behind him stumbled up the stone stairs 
 and entered his room. The impulse to confide his
 
 140 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 misfortunes to some one was so strong upon him 
 that he was glad to see a dark form half sitting, 
 half lying in a chair before the dying embers of a 
 wood fire. In those days a man's natural confi- 
 dant was his valet, the follower, half friend, half 
 servant, who had been born on his estate, who lay 
 on a pallet at the foot of his bed, who carried his 
 billets-doux and held his cloak at the duello, who 
 rode near his stirrup in fight and nursed him in 
 illness, who not seldom advised him in the choice 
 of a wife, and lied in support of his suit. 
 
 The young Vicomte flung his cloak over a 
 chair. "Get up, you rascal!" he cried impa- 
 tiently. "You pig, you dog !" he continued, with 
 increasing anger. " Sleeping there as though your 
 master were not ruined by that scoundrel of a 
 Breton ! Bah ! " he added, gazing bitterly at his 
 follower, "you are of the canaille, and have neither 
 honour to lose nor a town to betray ! " 
 
 The sleeping man moved in his chair but did 
 not awake. The Vicomte, his patience exhausted, 
 snatched the bonnet from his head, and threw it 
 on the ground. "Will you listen?" he said. "Or 
 go, if you choose look for another master. I am 
 ruined ! Do you hear? Ruined, Gil ! I have lost 
 all money, land, Lusigny itself at the cards!" 
 
 The man, roused at last, stooped with a sleepy 
 movement, and picking up his hat dusted it with 
 his hand, then rose with a yawn to his feet. 
 
 "I am afraid, Vicomte," he said, in tones that,
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 141 
 
 quiet as they were, sounded like thunder in the 
 young man's astonished and bewildered ears, "I 
 am afraid that if you have lost Lusigny you 
 have lost something which was not yours to 
 lose!" 
 
 As he spoke he struck the embers with his boot, 
 and the fire, blazing up, shone on his face. The 
 Vicomte saw, with stupor, that the man before 
 him was not Gil at all was indeed the last person 
 in the world to whom he should have betrayed 
 himself. The astute smiling eyes, the aquiline 
 nose, the high forehead, and projecting chin, which 
 the short beard and moustache scarcely concealed, 
 were only too well known to him. He stepped 
 back with a cry of despair. "Sir!" he said, and 
 then his tongue failed him. His arms dropped by 
 his sides. He stood silent, pale, convicted, his chin 
 on his breast. The man to whom he had con- 
 fessed his treachery was the master whom he had 
 agreed to betray. 
 
 "I had suspected something of this," Henry of 
 Navarre continued, after a lengthy pause, and 
 with a tinge of irony in his tone. " Rosny told me 
 that that old fox, the Captain of Creance, was 
 affecting your company somewhat too much, M. 
 le Vicomte, and I find that, as usual, his suspi- 
 cions were well-founded. What with a gentleman 
 who shall be nameless, who has bartered a ford 
 and a castle for the favour of Mademoiselle de 
 Luynes, and yourself, and another I know of I
 
 142 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 am blest with some faithful followers, it seems ! 
 For shame ! for shame, sir ! " he continued seating 
 himself with dignity in the chair from which he 
 had risen, but turning it so that he confronted his 
 host, "have you nothing to say for yourself?" 
 
 The young noble stood with bowed head, his 
 face white. This was ruin, indeed, absolute, ir- 
 remediable ruin. "Sir," he said at last, "your 
 Majesty has a right to my life, not to my 
 honour." 
 
 "Your honour!" Henry exclaimed, biting con- 
 tempt in his tone. 
 
 The young man started, and for a second his 
 cheek flamed under the well-deserved reproach; 
 but he recovered himself. " My debt to your Ma- 
 jesty," he said, "I am willing to pay." 
 
 "Since pay you must," Henry muttered softly. 
 
 " But I claim to pay also my debt to the Cap- 
 tain of Creance." 
 
 The King of Navarre stared. "Oh," he said. 
 "So you would have me take your worthless life, 
 and give up Lusigny?" 
 
 "I am in your hands, sire." 
 
 "Pish, sir!" Henry replied in angry astonish- 
 ment. "You talk like a child. Such an offer, M. 
 de Noirterre, is folly, and you know it. Now listen 
 to me. It was lucky for you that I came in to- 
 night, intending to question you. Your madness 
 is known to me only, and I am willing to over- 
 look it. Do you hear? I am willing to pardon..
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 143 
 
 Cheer up, therefore, and be a man. You are 
 young ; I forgive you. This shall be between you 
 and me only," the young prince continued, his 
 eyes softening as the other's head sank lower, 
 "and you need think no more of it until the day 
 when I shall say to you, 'Now, M. de Noirterre, 
 for Navarre and for Henry, strike ! ' : 
 
 He rose as the last words passed his lips, and 
 held out his hand. The Vicomte fell on one knee, 
 and kissed it reverently, then sprang to his feet 
 again. "Sire," he said, his eyes shining, "you 
 have punished me heavily, more heavily than was 
 needful. There is only one way in which I can 
 show my gratitude, and that is by ridding you of 
 a servant who can never again look your enemies 
 in the face." 
 
 "What new folly is this?" Henry asked sternly. 
 "Do you not understand that I have forgiven 
 you?" 
 
 "Therefore I cannot betray Lusigny, and I must 
 acquit myself of my debt to the Captain of Cre- 
 ance in the only way which remains," the young 
 man replied firmly. " Death is not so hard that I 
 would not meet it twice over rather than again 
 betray my trust." 
 
 "This is midsummer madness!" said the King, 
 hotly. 
 
 "Possibly," replied the Vicomte, without emo- 
 tion; "yet of a kind to which your Grace is not 
 altogether a stranger."
 
 144 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 The words appealed to that love of the fanciful 
 and the chivalrous which formed part of the 
 young King's nature, and was one cause alike of 
 his weakness and his strength. In its more ex- 
 travagant flights it gave opportunity after oppor- 
 tunity to his enemies, in its nobler and saner 
 expressions it won victories which all his astute- 
 ness and diplomacy could not have compassed. 
 He stood now, looking with half-hidden admira- 
 tion at the man whom two minutes before he had 
 despised. 
 
 "I think you are in jest," he said presently and 
 with some scorn. 
 
 "No, sir," the young man answered, gravely. 
 "In my country they have a proverb about us. 
 'The Noirterres,' say they, 'have ever been bad 
 players but good payers.' I will not be the first 
 to be worse than my name!" 
 
 He spoke with so quiet a determination that the 
 King was staggered, and for a minute or two 
 paced the room in silence, inwardly reviling the 
 obstinacy of this weak-kneed supporter, yet unable 
 to withhold his admiration from it. At length he 
 stopped, with a low exclamation. 
 
 "Wait!" he cried. "I have it! Ventre Saint 
 Gris, man, I have it!" His eyes sparkled, and, 
 with a gentle laugh, he hit the table a sounding 
 blow. " Ha ! ha ! I have it ! " he repeated gaily. 
 
 The young noble gazed at him in surprise, half 
 suspicious, half incredulous. But when Henry in
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 145 
 
 IQW, rapid tones had expounded his plan, the 
 young man's face underwent a change. Hope and 
 life sprang into it. The blood flew to his cheeks. 
 His whole aspect softened. In a moment he was 
 on his knee, mumbling the prince's hand, his eyes 
 moist with gratitude. Nor was that all ; the two 
 talked long, the murmur of their voices broken 
 more than once by the ripple of laughter. When 
 they at length separated, and Henry, his face hid- 
 den by the folds of his cloak, had stolen to his 
 lodgings, where, no doubt, more than one watcher 
 was awaiting him with a mind full of anxious 
 fears, the Vicomte threw open his window and 
 looked out on the night. The moon had set, but 
 the stars still shone peacefully in the dark canopy 
 above. He remembered, his throat choking with 
 silent emotion, that he was looking towards his 
 home the round towers among the walnut woods 
 of Navarre which had been in his family since the 
 days of St. Louis, and which he had so lightly 
 risked. And he registered a vow in his heart that 
 of all Henry's servants he would henceforth be the 
 most faithful. 
 
 Meanwhile the Captain of Creance was enjoying 
 the sweets of his coming triumph. He did not 
 look out into the night, it is true he was over old 
 for sentiment but pacing up and down the room 
 he planned and calculated, considering how he 
 might make the most of his success. He was still 
 
 comparatively young. He had years of strength 
 10
 
 146 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 before him. He would rise high and higher. He 
 would not easily be satisfied. The times were 
 troubled, opportunities were many, fools not few ; 
 bold men with brains and hands were rare. 
 
 At the same time he knew that he could be sure 
 of nothing until Lusigny was actually in his pos- 
 session; and he spent the next few days in pain- 
 ful suspense. But no hitch occurred nor seemed 
 likely. The Vicomte made him the necessary com- 
 munications; and men in his own pay informed 
 him of dispositions ordered by the governor of 
 Lusigny which left him in no doubt that the loser 
 intended to pay his debt. 
 
 It was, therefore, with a heart already gay with 
 anticipation that the Captain rode out of Creance 
 two hours before midnight on an evening eight 
 days later. The night was dark, but he knew his 
 road well. He had with him a powerful force, 
 composed in part of thirty of his own garrison, 
 bold hardy fellows, and in part of six score horse- 
 men, lent him by the governor of Montauban. As 
 the Vicomte had undertaken to withdraw, under 
 some pretence or other, one-half of his command 
 and to have one of the gates opened by a trusty 
 hand, the Captain foresaw no difficulty. He trot- 
 ted along in excellent spirits, now stopping to 
 scan with approval the dark line of his troopers, 
 now to bid them muffle the jingle of their swords 
 and corselets that nevertheless rang sweet music in 
 his ears, He looked for an easy victory; but it
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 147 
 
 was not any slight misadventure that would rob 
 him of his prey. If necessary he would fight and 
 fight hard. Still, as his company wound along 
 the river-side or passed into the black shadow of 
 the oak grove, which stands a mile to the east of 
 Lusigny, he did not expect that there would be 
 much fighting. 
 
 Treachery alone, he thought, could thwart him ; 
 and of treachery there was no sign. The troopers 
 had scarcely halted under the last clump of trees 
 before a figure detached itself from one of the 
 largest trunks, and advanced to the Captain's 
 rein. The Captain saw with surprise that it was 
 the Vicomte himself. For a second he thought 
 that something had gone wrong, but the young 
 noble's first words reassured him. "It is ar- 
 ranged," M. de Noirterre whispered, as the Cap- 
 tain bent down to him. "I have kept my word, 
 and I think that there will be no resistance. The 
 planks for crossing the moat lie opposite the gate. 
 Knock thrice at the latter, and it will be opened. 
 There are not fifty armed men in the place." 
 
 "Good!" the Captain answered, in the same 
 cautious tone. "But you " 
 
 "I am believed to be elsewhere, and must be 
 gone. I have far to ride to night. Farewell." 
 
 "Till we meet again," the Captain answered; 
 and without more he saw his ally glide away and 
 disappear in the darkness. A cautious word set 
 the troop in motion, and a very few minutes saw
 
 148 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 them standing on the edge of the moat, the out- 
 line of the gateway tower looming above them, a 
 shade darker than the wrack of clouds which over- 
 head raced silently across the sky. A moment of 
 suspense while one and another shivered for there 
 is that in a night attack which touches the nerves 
 of the stoutest and the planks were found, and as 
 quietly as possible laid across the moat. This was 
 so skilfully done that it evoked no challenge and 
 the Captain crossing quickly with a few r picked 
 men, stood in the twinkling of an eye under the 
 shadow of the gateway. Still no sound was heard 
 save the hurried breathing of those at his elbow, 
 the stealthy tread of others crossing, the persis- 
 tent voices of the frogs in the water beneath. 
 Cautiously he knocked three times and waited. 
 The third rap had scarcely sounded before the 
 gate rolled silently open, and he sprang in, fol- 
 lowed by his men. 
 
 So far so good. A glance at the empty street 
 and the porter's pale face told him at once that 
 the Vicomte had kept his word. But he was too 
 old a soldier to take anything for granted, and 
 forming up his men as quickly as they entered, he 
 allowed no one to advance until all were inside, 
 and then, his trumpet sounding a w r ild note of 
 defiance, two-thirds of his force sprang forward in 
 a compact body while the other third remained to 
 hold the gate. In a moment the town awoke to 
 find itself in the hands of the enemy.
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 149 
 
 As the Vicomte had promised, there was no re- 
 sistance. In the small keep a score of men did 
 indeed run to arms, but only to lay their weapons 
 down without striking a blow when they became 
 aware of the force opposed to them. Their leader, 
 sullenly acquiescing, gave up his sword and the 
 keys of the town to the victorious Captain ; who, 
 as he sat his horse in the middle of the market- 
 place, giving his orders and sending off riders 
 with the news, already saw himself in fancy Gov- 
 ernor of Angouleme and Knight of the Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 As the red light of the torches fell on steel caps 
 and polished hauberks, on the serried ranks of 
 pikemen, and the circle of whitefaced townsfolks, 
 the picturesque old square looked doubly pic- 
 turesque and he who sat in the midst, its master, 
 doubly a hero. Every five minutes, with a clatter 
 of iron on the rough pavement and a shower of 
 sparks, a horseman sprang away to tell the news 
 at Montauban or Cahors; and every time that 
 this occurred, the Captain, astride on his charger, 
 felt a new sense of power and triumph. 
 
 Suddenly the low murmur of voices about him 
 was broken by a new sound, the distant beat of 
 hoofs, not departing but arriving, and coming 
 each moment nearer. It was but the tramp of a 
 single horse, but there was something in the sound 
 which made the Captain prick his ears, and se- 
 cured for the arriving messenger a speedy passage
 
 150 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 through the crowd. Even at the last the man did 
 not spare his horse, but spurred through the 
 ranks to the Captain's very side, and then and 
 then only sprang to the ground. His face was 
 pale, his eyes were bloodshot. His right arm was 
 bound up in bloodstained cloths. With an oath of 
 amazement, the Captain recognized the officer 
 whom he had left in charge of Creance, and he 
 thundered, "What is this? What is it?" 
 
 "They have got Creance!" the man gasped, 
 reeling as he spoke. "They have got Cre- 
 ance!" 
 
 "Who?" the Captain shrieked, his face purple 
 with rage. 
 
 "The little man of Beam! The King of Na- 
 varre! He assaulted it five hundred strong an 
 hour after you left, and had the gate down before 
 we could fire a dozen shots. We did what we 
 could, but we were but one to seven. I swear, 
 Captain, that we did all we could. Look at 
 this!" 
 
 Almost black in the face, the Captain swore an- 
 other oath. It was not only that he saw gover- 
 norship and honours vanish like Will-o'-the-wisps, 
 but that he saw even more quickly that he had 
 made himself the laughing-stock of a kingdom ! 
 And that was the truth. To this day, among the 
 stories which the southern French love to tell of 
 the prowess and astuteness of their great Henry, 
 there is no tradition more frequently told, none
 
 THE KING'S STRATAGEM 151 
 
 more frequently made the subject of mirth, than 
 that of the famous exchange of Creance for Lu- 
 signy; of the move by which between dawn and 
 sunrise, without warning, without a word, he gave 
 his opponents mate.
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 
 
 IN the summer of 1706, two years after the 
 second battle of Hochstett, which Englishmen call 
 Blenheim, in a world ringing with the names of 
 Marlborough and Eugene, Louis of Baden and 
 Villars, Villeroy the Incapable and Boufflers the 
 Brave a world, for us of later days, of dark 
 chaos, luridly lit by the flames of burning ham- 
 lets, and galloped through by huge troopers 
 wearing periwigs and thigh boots, and carrying 
 pistols two feet long in the barrel one of the 
 Austrian captains sat down before the frontier 
 town of Huymonde, in Spanish Flanders, and pre- 
 pared to take it. 
 
 Whereat Huymonde was not too greatly or too 
 fearfully moved. A warm town, of fat burghers 
 and narrow streets, and oak wainscots that 
 winked in the firelight, and burnished flagons that 
 caught the drinker's smile, it was not to be lightly 
 excited; and it had been besieged, heaven only 
 knows how many times before. Men made ready 
 as for a long frost, took count of wine and pro- 
 visions, and hiding a portion of each under the 
 cellar floor, thanked God that they were not 
 the garrison, and that times were changed since 
 the Thirty Years' War. These things done and the
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 153 
 
 siege formed, they folded their hands and let them- 
 selves slide into the current of an idle life, flecked 
 from time to time with bubbles of excitement. 
 When the Austrian guns rumbled without, and 
 the smoke eddied slowly over the walls, they 
 stood in the streets, their hands in their muffs, 
 and gossiped not unpleasantly ; when the cannon 
 were silent they smoked their long pipes on the 
 ramparts, and measured the advance of the trench- 
 es, and listened while the oldest inhabitant prosed 
 of the sack by Spinola in '24 and the winter siege 
 of '41. 
 
 Whether the good townsfolk were as brave in 
 private when at home with their wives, for in- 
 stance may be doubted ; but this for certain, the 
 Burgomaster's trouble lay all with the women. 
 Whether they had less faith in the great Louis, 
 Fourteenth of the name, King of France who, 
 indeed, seemed in these days less superior to a 
 world in arms than in the dawn of his glory or 
 they found the oldest inhabitant's tales too pre- 
 cisely to the point, they had a way of growing 
 restive once a week, besieged the good Burgo- 
 master's house, and demanded with a thousand 
 shrill and voluble tongues immediate surrender 
 on terms. Between whiles, being busy with scrub- 
 bing and baking, and washing their children, they 
 were quiet enough. But as surely as Sunday came 
 round, and with it a clean house and leisure to 
 chat with the neighbours, the Burgomaster's hour
 
 154 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 came too, and with it the mob of women shaking 
 crooked fingers at him, and bursting his ears 
 with their shrill abuse. He was a bold man, but 
 he began to dream at night of De Witt and his 
 fate of which he knew, with many gruesome par- 
 ticulars ; and, from a stout and pompous burgher, 
 he dwindled in six weeks to a lean and morose 
 old tyrant. Withal he had no choice, for at his 
 shoulder lurked the French Commandant, a reso- 
 lute man with a wit of his own and a pet cur- 
 tain between the Stadthaus bastion and the bas- 
 tion of the Bronze Horse, and very handy to the 
 former whereat he shot deserters and the like on 
 the smallest pretext. 
 
 Still, the Burgomaster, as he wiped his sallow 
 face, and watched the last of the women with- 
 draw on the seventh Sunday of the Siege, began 
 to think that, rather than pass through this 
 again, he would face even the curtain and a vol- 
 ley; if he were sure that one volley would do it, 
 and no botching. The ordeal had been more se- 
 vere than usual : his cheek still twitched, and he 
 leaned against his official table to belie his trem- 
 bling knees. He had been settling a change of bil- 
 lets, when the viragos broke in on him, and only 
 his clerk had been present; for his council and 
 this he felt sorely much bullied in old days, were 
 treating him to solitude and the monopoly of the 
 burden. His clerk was with him now ; but affected 
 to be busy with the papers on the table. Per-
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 155 
 
 haps he was scared too, and equally bent on hid- 
 ing it ; at any rate, it was the Burgomaster who 
 first discovered that they were not alone, but that 
 one woman still lingered. She had placed her- 
 self in a corner of the oak seat that ran round 
 the panelled room; and the stained glass of the 
 windows, blazoned with the arms of Huymonde 
 and the Counts of Flanders, cast a veil of tawny 
 lights between her and the gazer ; behind which she 
 seemed to lurk. The Burgomaster started, then 
 remembered that the danger was over for the 
 time he was not afraid of one woman ; and in a 
 harsh voice he bade her follow her mates. 
 
 "Begone, wench!" he said. "And go to your 
 prayers! That is women's work. Leave these 
 things to men." 
 
 The woman rose to her full height. "When 
 men," she answered, in a voice at which the Bur- 
 gomaster started afresh, "hide themselves, it is 
 time women stood forward. Where is your son?" 
 
 The Burgomaster swore. 
 
 "Where is your son?" the woman, repeated 
 firmly. 
 
 The Burgomaster swore again, his sallow face 
 grown purple : then he looked at his clerk and 
 signed to him to go. The clerk went, wondering 
 and gaping for this was unusual and the two 
 were left together. 
 
 At that the Burgomaster found his voice. 
 "You Jezebel !" he cried, approaching the woman.
 
 156 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "How dare you come here to make mischief? 
 How dare you lay your tongue to my son's 
 name? Do you know, shameless one, that if I 
 were to give the word " 
 
 But at that word the woman caught fire, blazed 
 up, and outdid him in rage. She was a middle- 
 aged woman and spare, with a face naturally 
 pale and refined, and an air of pride that peeped 
 even through the neat poverty of her dress. But 
 at that word she shook her hands in his face 
 and her eyes blazed. 
 
 "Shameless?" she retorted. "No, but shame- 
 ful; and through whom? Through your son, 
 your villain, your craven of a son who hides now ! 
 Through your base-born tradesman of a son who 
 dare face neither woman nor man." 
 
 "Silence!" the Burgomaster cried. "Silence!" 
 
 She broke off, but only to throw her whole soul 
 into one breathless cry. 
 
 "Will he marry her?" she panted; and she held 
 out her hands to him, palm uppermost. "Will 
 he marry her? In a word." 
 
 "No," the Burgomaster answered grimly. 
 
 She flung up her arms. 
 
 "Then beware!" she cried wildly, and for the 
 first time she raised her voice to the pitch of those 
 other shrews. "Beware! You and yours have 
 brought us to shame ; but the end is not yet, the 
 end is not yet! You do not know us." 
 
 At that he rallied himself. "I may not know
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 157 
 
 you yet," he said hardily, and indeed brutally; 
 "but I know this, that such things as these come, 
 woman, of people setting themselves up to be bet- 
 ter than their neighbours, when they are as poor 
 as church mice. They come of slighting honest 
 fellows and setting caps at those above you. 
 Your daughter or you, woman, if you like it bet- 
 ter set the trap, and you are caught in it your- 
 selves. That is all." 
 
 "You wretch!" she gasped. "And he will not 
 marry her?" 
 
 "Not while I live," he answered firmly. 
 
 "And that is your last word?" 
 
 "It is," he said. "My very last." 
 
 He was on his guard, prepared to defend him- 
 self even against actual violence. For he knew 
 what angry women were and of what they were 
 capable even against a Burgomaster. But after a 
 tense pause of suspense, during every moment of 
 which he expected her to fall upon him, she said 
 only, "Where is he?" 
 
 "I shall not tell you," he answered. "Nor 
 would it help you if you knew ! " 
 
 "And that is all?" - 
 
 "That is all." 
 
 It was not their first interview. She had pled 
 with him before, and knelt and wept and abased 
 herself before him. She had done all that the 
 love that tore her heartstrings the love that 
 made it so much more difficult to see her child
 
 158 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 suffer than to suffer herself, the love that every 
 moment painted the bare room at home, and her 
 daughter prostrate there in shame and despair 
 she had done all that even love could suggest. 
 There was no room therefore for farther pleading, 
 for farther prayers; she had threatened, and she 
 had failed. What, then, remained to be done? 
 
 Nothing, the Burgomaster thought, as in a 
 flash of triumph and relief he watched her go, 
 outfaced and defeated. Nothing; and he hugged 
 himself on the prudence that had despatched his 
 son out of the way in time, and rendered a match 
 with that proud pauper brat impossible. Noth- 
 ing; but to the woman, as she went, it seemed 
 that everything remained to be done. As she left 
 the little square with its tall slender gabled houses 
 and plunged into the narrow street that led to 
 her house on the wall, the story of her life in 
 Huymonde spread itself before her in a string of 
 scenes that now now alas ! but never before 
 seemed to find their natural sequence in this tra- 
 gedy. Nine years before she had come to Huy- 
 monde with her artist husband ; but the great 
 art of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries 
 was already dying or dead in Flanders, and with 
 it the artistic sense, and the honour once paid to 
 it. Huymonde made delft still, and pottery, but 
 on old conventional lines, in an endless repeti- 
 tion of old formal patterns, with no touch of ge- 
 nius or appreciation. Trade, and a desire to win
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 159 
 
 the florid ease, the sleek comfort of the burgh- 
 er, possessed the town wholly. The artist had 
 found himself a stranger in a strange land ; had 
 struggled on, despising and despised, in the quaint 
 house on the wall, at which he had snatched on 
 his first coming because it looked over the open 
 country. There, after seven years, he had slipped 
 out of life, scarcely better known, and no whit 
 more highly appreciated than on the day of his 
 arrival. 
 
 After that the story was of two women living 
 ,s'o/ci cum sola, one wholly for the other suspected, 
 if not disliked, by their neighbours, and for their 
 part alien in all their thoughts and standards; 
 since the artist's widow could not forget that he 
 had been the favourite pupil of Peter Paul's old 
 age, or that her father had counted quarterings. 
 tioki cum sola, until one day the war began, and 
 Huymonde set about looking to its defences. 
 Then a young man appeared on a certain even- 
 ing to inspect the House on the Wall, and see that 
 the window, which looked out upon the level 
 country side, was safely and properly built up 
 and strengthened. 
 
 "You must have a sergeant and guard billeted 
 here!" was his first sharp word; and the widow 
 had sighed at this invasion of their privacy, which 
 was also their poverty. But the young girl, stand- 
 ing sideways in that very window, which was to 
 be closed, had pouted her red lips and frowned on
 
 160 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the intruder, and the sergeant had not come, nor 
 the guard. Instead the young man had returned, 
 at first weekly, then at shorter intervals, to see 
 that the window defences remained intact; and 
 with his appearance life in the House on the Wall 
 had become a different thing. He was the son of 
 the Burgomaster of the town, he would be the 
 richest man in the town, his wife might repay with 
 interest and advantage the dull bovine scorn to 
 which the city dames had treated her mother. The 
 widow permitted herself to hope. Her child was 
 beautiful, with the creamy fairness of Gueldres, 
 and as pure as the sky. The young man was gay 
 and handsome; qualities which made their due 
 impression on the elder woman's heart, long un- 
 familiar with them. So, for more than a year he 
 had had the run of the house, he had been one 
 of the family; and then one day he had disap- 
 peared, and then one other day 
 
 Oh, God of vengeance ! She paused in the dark- 
 ening street, as she thought of it. Beside her a 
 long window, warmly curtained, sent out a stream 
 of ruddy light. From the opposite house issued 
 cheery voices and tinkling laughter, and the steam 
 of cooking. And before and behind, whichever 
 way she looked, firelight flashed through dia- 
 mond panes and glowed in the heart of green 
 bottle-glass. Out in the street men shouldered 
 past her, talking blithely ; and in distant kitchens 
 cups clinked and ware clattered, and every house
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 161 
 
 every house from garret to parlour, seemed to her 
 a home happy and gleeful. A home; and her 
 home! She stood at the thought and cursed 
 them ; cursed them, and like the echo of her whis- 
 pered words the solemn boom of a cannon floated 
 over the town. 
 
 A chance passer, seeing her stand thus, caught 
 the whiteness of her face, and thought her afraid. 
 "Cheer up, mother!" he said over his shoulder, 
 "they are all bark and little bite!" 
 
 "I would they bit to the bone!" she cried in 
 fury. 
 
 But luckily he was gone too far to hear or to 
 understand; and, resuming her course, she hur- 
 ried on, her head bowed. A few minutes' walking 
 brought her to the foot of the stone steps that, 
 in two parallel flights, led up to the low-browed 
 door of her house. There, as she set her foot on 
 the lowest stair, and wearily began the ascent, a 
 man advanced out of the darkness and touched 
 her sleeve. For an instant she thought it theman, 
 and she caught her breath and stepped back. 
 But his first word showed her her mistake. 
 
 "You live here?" he said abruptly. "Can I 
 come in?" 
 
 In ordinary times his foreign accent and the 
 glint of a pistol-barrel, which caught her eye as 
 he spoke, would have set her on her guard. But 
 to-night she had nothing to lose nothing, it 
 
 seemed to her, to hope. She scarcely looked at 
 11
 
 162 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the man. "As you please," she said dullj. "What 
 do you want?" 
 
 "To speak to you." 
 
 "Come in then," she said. 
 
 She did not turn to him again until they stood 
 together in the room above, and the door was 
 shut. Then she asked him a second time what he 
 wanted. 
 
 "Are we alone?" he returned, staring suspi- 
 ciously about him. 
 
 " My daughter is above," she answered. "There 
 is no one else in the house." 
 
 "And you are poor?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders indifferently, and by 
 a movement of her hands seemed to put the room 
 in evidence; one or two pictures, standing on 
 easels, and a few common painter's properties re- 
 deemed it from utter bareness, utter misery, yet 
 left it cold and faded. 
 
 Nevertheless, his next question took her by 
 surprise. "What rent do you pay?" he asked 
 harshly. 
 
 "What rent?" she repeated, shaken out of her 
 moodiness. 
 
 "Yes. How many crowns?" 
 
 "Twenty," she answered mechanically. What 
 was his aim? What did he want? 
 
 "A year?" 
 
 "Yes, a year." 
 
 The man had a round shaven whitish face that
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 163 
 
 sat in the circle of a tightly tied Steinkirk cravat, 
 like an ivory ball in a cup; and short hair, that 
 might on occasion line a periwig. Notwithstand- 
 ing his pistol, he had rather the air of a trades- 
 man than a soldier until you met his eyes, which 
 flashed with a keen glitter that belied his smug 
 face and shaven cheeks. Those eyes caught the 
 widow's eyes as he answered her, and held them. 
 
 " Twenty crowns a year," he said. " Then listen. 
 I will give you two hundred crowns for this house 
 for one night." 
 
 "For this house for one night?" she repeated, 
 thinking she had not heard aright. 
 
 "For this house, for one night!" he answered. 
 
 Then she understood. She was quick-witted, she 
 had lived long in the house and knew it. Without 
 more she knew that God or the devil had put that 
 which she sought into her hands; and her first 
 impulse was to pure joy. The thirst for vengeance 
 welled up, hot and resistless. Now she could be 
 avenged on all; on the hard-hearted tyrant who 
 had rejected her prayer, on the sleek dames who 
 would point the finger at her child, on the smug 
 town that had looked askance at her all these 
 years that had set her beyond the pale of its dull 
 grovelling pleasures, and shut her up in that 
 lonely House on the Wall ! Now now she had it 
 in her hand to take tenfold for one. Her face so 
 shone at the thought that the man watching 
 her felt a touch of misgiving; though he was of
 
 164 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the boldest or he had not been there on that er- 
 rand. 
 
 "When?" she said. "When?" 
 
 "To-morrow night," he answered. And then, 
 leaning forward, and speaking lightly but in a low 
 voice, he went on, " It is a simple matter. All you 
 have to do is to find a lodging and begone from 
 here by sunset, leaving the door on the latch. No 
 more ; for the money it shall be paid to you, half 
 to-night and half the day after to-morrow." 
 
 "I want no money," she said. 
 
 "No money?" he exclaimed incredulously. 
 
 "No, no money," she answered, in a tone and 
 with a look that silenced him. 
 
 "But you will do it?" he said, almost with 
 timidity. 
 
 "I will do it," she answered. "At sunset to- 
 morrow you will find the door on the latch and 
 the house empty. After that see that you do your 
 part!" 
 
 His eyes lightened. "Have no fear," he said 
 grimly. "But mark one thing, mistress," he con- 
 tinued. "It is an odd thing to do for nothing." 
 
 "That is my business!" she cried, with a flash 
 of rage. 
 
 He had been about to warn her that during the 
 next twenty-four hours she would be watched, and 
 that on the least sign of a message passing be- 
 tween her and those in authority the plot would 
 be abandoned. But at that look he held his
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 165 
 
 peace, said curtly that it was a bargain then ; and 
 in a twinkling he was gone, leaving her leaving 
 her alone with her secret. 
 
 Yet for a time it was not of that or of her ven- 
 geance that she thought. Her mind was busy 
 with the years of solitude and estrangement she 
 had passed in that house and that room ; with the 
 depression that little by little had sapped her 
 husband's strength and hope, with the slow decay 
 of their goods, their cheerfulness, even the artistic 
 joys that had at first upheld them ; with the aloof- 
 ness that had doomed her and her child to a 
 dreary existence; with this last great wrong. 
 
 "Yes, let it be! let it be!" she cried. In fancy 
 she saw the town lie below her as she had often 
 seen it with the actual eye from the ramparts 
 she saw the clustering mass of warm red roofs and 
 walls, the outlying towers, the church, the one 
 long straight street; and with outstretched arm 
 she doomed it doomed it with a vengeful sense of 
 the righteousness of the sentence. 
 
 Yet, strange to say, that which was uppermost 
 in her mind and steeled her soul and justified the 
 worst, was not the last thing of which she had to 
 complain her daughter's wrong but the long 
 years of loneliness, the hundred, nay, the thou- 
 sand, petty slights of the past, bearable at the 
 time and in detail, but intolerable in the retro- 
 spect now hope was gone. She dwelt on these, 
 and the thought of what was coming filled her
 
 166 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 with a fearful joy. She thought of them, and took 
 the lamp and passed into the next room, and, 
 throwing the light on the rough face of brickwork 
 that closed the great window, she eyed the cracks 
 eagerly, and scarcely kept her fingers from begin- 
 ning the work. For she understood the plot. One 
 man working silently within, in darkness, could 
 demolish the wall in an hour ; then a whistle, rope 
 ladders, a line of men ascending, and before mid- 
 night the house would vomit armed men, the near- 
 est gate would be seized, the town would lie at the 
 mercy of the enemy ! 
 
 Presently she had to go to her daughter, but the 
 current of her thoughts kept the same course. 
 The girl was sullen, and lay with her face to the 
 wall, and gave short answers, venting her misery 
 after the common human fashion on the one who 
 loved her best. The mother bore it, not as before 
 Avith the patience that scorned even to upbraid, 
 but grimly, setting down each peevish word to the 
 score that was so soon to be paid. She lay all 
 night beside her child, and in the small hours 
 heard her weep and felt the bed shake with her 
 unhappiness, and carried the score farther; nay, 
 busied herself with it, so that day and the twitter- 
 ing of sparrows and the booming of the early 
 guns took her by surprise. Took her by surprise, 
 but worked no change in her thoughts. 
 
 She was so completely under the influence of the 
 idea, that she felt no fear ; the chance of discovery,
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 167 
 
 and the certainty that if discovered she would be 
 done to death without mercy, did not trouble her 
 in the least. She went about her ordinary tasks 
 until late in the afternoon ; then, without preface 
 or explanation, she told her daughter that she 
 was going out to seek a lodging. 
 
 The girl was profoundly astonished. "A lodg- 
 ing?" she cried, sitting up. "For us?" 
 
 "Yes," the mother answered coldly. "For whom 
 do you think?" 
 
 "And you will leave this house?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But when?" 
 
 "To-night." 
 
 "Leave this house for a lodging to-night?" 
 the girl faltered. She could not believe her ears. 
 "Why? What has happened?" 
 
 Then the woman, in the fierceness of her mood, 
 turned her arms against her child. "Need you 
 ask?" she cried bitterly. "Do you want to go on 
 living in this house in this house, which was your 
 father's? To go in and out at this door, and 
 meet our neighbours and talk with them on these 
 steps? To wait here here, where every one knows 
 you, for the shame that will come? For the man 
 who will never come?" 
 
 The girl sank back, shuddering and weeping. 
 The woman covered her head and went out, and 
 presently returned ; and in the grey of the evening, 
 which within the walls fell early, the two left the
 
 168 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 house, the elder carrying a bundle of clothes, the 
 younger whimpering and wondering. Stupefied by 
 the suddenness of the movement, and her mother's 
 stern purpose, she did not observe that they had 
 left the door on the latch, and the House on the 
 Wall unguarded. 
 
 The people with whom they had found a lodg- 
 ing, a little room under the sharply sloping tiles, 
 knew them by name and sight that in so small 
 a place was inevitable but found nothing strange 
 in the woman's reason for moving ; she said that 
 at home the firing broke her daughter's rest. The 
 housewife indeed could sympathize with her, and 
 did so. "I never go to bed myself," she said 
 roundly, "but I dream of those wretches sacking 
 the town, and look to awake with my throat 
 cut." 
 
 "Tut tut!" her husband answered angrily. 
 "You will live to wag your tongue and make 
 mischief a score of years yet. And for the town 
 being sacked, there is small chance of that in 
 these days." 
 
 The elder of his new lodgers repeated his words. 
 "Small chance of that?" she said mechanically. 
 "Is that so?" 
 
 The man looked at her with patronage. " Little 
 or none," he said. "If we have to cry Enough, 
 we shall cry it in time, and on terms you may be 
 sure; and they will march in like gentlemen, and 
 an end of it."
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 169 
 
 "But if it happen at night?" the woman asked 
 curiously. She felt a strange compulsion to put 
 the question. "If they should take us by sur- 
 prise? What then?" 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, then, 
 of course, things might be different," he said. 
 "But, sho ! it won't happen. No fear!" he con- 
 tinued hastily, and in a tone that belied his 
 words. "And you, wife, get back to your pots 
 and leave this talking ! You frighten yourself to 
 death with imaginings!" 
 
 The woman from the House on the Wall went 
 upstairs to her garret. She did not repent of 
 what she had done; but a sense of its greatness 
 began to take hold of her, and whether she would 
 or not, she found herself waiting waiting and 
 watching for she alone knew what. Given a com- 
 panion less preoccupied with misery and she must 
 have been suspected. But the girl lay moodily on 
 her bed, and the widow was at liberty to stand at 
 the window with her hands spread on the sill, and 
 look, and listen, and look, and listen, unwatched. 
 She could not see the street, for below their dor- 
 mer the roof ran down steeply a yard or more to 
 the eaves; but she had full command of the op- 
 posite houses, and at one of the windows a young 
 girl was dressing herself. The woman watched her 
 plait her fair hair, looking sideways the while at 
 a little mirror ; and saw her put on a poor neck- 
 lace and remove it again and try a piece of rib-
 
 170 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 bon. Gradually the watcher became interested; 
 from interest she passed to speculation, and won- 
 dered with a slight shudder how this girl would 
 fare between that and morning. And then the 
 girl looked up and met the woman's eyes with the 
 innocence of her own and the woman fell back 
 from the window as if a hand had struck her. 
 
 She went no more after that to the window ; but 
 until it was quite dark she sat in a chair with her 
 hands on her lap, forcing herself to quietude, as 
 women will, where men would tramp the floor un- 
 ceasingly. When it was quite dark she trimmed 
 and lit the lamp, and still she did not repent. 
 But she listened more and more closely, and with 
 less concealment. And the face of the girl preen- 
 ing herself at her poor mirror returned again and 
 again, and troubled her. She could contemplate 
 the fate of the town as a whole, and say, let it 
 be! Ay, in God's name let it be! But the one 
 face seen at a window, the one case brought home 
 to her, clung to her mind, and pricked and pained 
 her dully. 
 
 By-and-by she heard the clock strike ten, and 
 her daughter, turning feverishly on the bed, asked 
 her peevishly when she was going to lie down. 
 "Presently," she answered, "presently." And 
 still she sat and listened, and still the girl's face 
 haunted her. She began to picture in detail the 
 thing for which she was waiting. She fancied that 
 she could hear the first alert, followed by single
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 171 
 
 cries, these by a roar of alarm, this by the wild 
 rush of feet; then she heard the crashing volley, 
 the rattle of hoofs on the pavement, the whirl of 
 the flight through the streets, the shouts of "Ger- 
 many! Germany!" as the troops swept in tri- 
 umphant! And then ah, then! she heard the 
 things that would follow, the crashing in of doors, 
 the sudden glare of flames, the screams of men 
 driven to the wall, the yells of drunken Saxons, 
 the shrieks of women, the 
 
 No more! No more! She could not bear it. 
 With a shudder she stood erect, and looked about 
 her wildly. The lamp burned low, her daughter 
 was asleep. With a swift movement the mother 
 caught up a shawl that lay beside the bed, and 
 turned to the door. 
 
 Alas, too late. She had repented, but too late. 
 With her hand on the latch, her foot on the thresh- 
 old, she stood, arrested by a low distant cry 
 that caught her ear, and swelled even as she 
 listened to it, into a roar of many voices rousing 
 the town. What was it? Alas, she knew; she 
 knew, and cowered against the door white-faced 
 and shaking. A moment passed, and the alarm, 
 after sinking, rose again, and now there was no 
 doubt of its meaning. Shod feet pattered through 
 the streets, windows clattered up noisily; a wild 
 medley of voices broke out, and again in a few 
 seconds was lost in the crashing sound of the 
 very volley she had foreheard !
 
 172 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 From that moment it seemed to her that hell 
 was broken loose in the town ; and she had loosed 
 it ! She could no longer, in the din that rose 
 from the street, distinguish one sound from an- 
 other ; but the crash of distant cannon, the heavy 
 tramp of feet near at hand, the screams and cries 
 and shouting, the blare of trumpets, all rose in a 
 confused babel of sounds that shook the very 
 houses, and blanched the cheeks and drove the 
 blood to the heart. The woman, cowering against 
 the door, covered her ears, and groaned. Her 
 horror at what she had done was so great, that 
 she did not heed what was passing near her, nor 
 give a thought to the child in the same room 
 with her until the latter's voice struck her ear, 
 and she turned and found her daughter standing 
 in the middle of the floor, her hand to her breast, 
 and her eyes wide. Then the mother awoke in 
 her again; with pallid shaking lips she cried to 
 her to lie down to lie down, for there was no 
 danger. 
 
 But the girl raised her hand for silence. 
 "Hush!" she said. "I hear a step! It is his! 
 It is his ! And he is coming to me ! Mother, he 
 is coming to me!" 
 
 The mother imagined that terror had turned the 
 girl's brain ; it was inconceivable that in that roar 
 of sound a single step could make itself heard, or 
 be recognized. And she tried, in a voice that 
 shook with horror and remorse, to repeat her
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 173 
 
 meaningless words of comfort. But they died on 
 her lips, died still-born, as the door flew open, and 
 a man rushed in, gazed an instant, then caught 
 her child in his arms. 
 
 It was the Burgomaster's son ! 
 
 The woman from the House on the Wall leaned 
 an instant against the door-post, gazing at them. 
 Little by little as she looked the expression in her 
 eyes changed, and they took the cold, fixed, dis- 
 tant look of a sleep-walker. A moment and she 
 drew a shuddering breath, and turned and went 
 out, and, groping in the outside darkness for the 
 balustrade, went unfaltering into the street. 
 
 A part of the garrison happened to be retreating 
 that way at the time. A few were still turning to 
 fire at intervals; but the greater number were 
 hurrying along with bent heads, keeping close to 
 the houses, and intent only on escaping. Reach- 
 ing the middle of the roadway she stood there 
 like a rock, her face turned in the direction whence 
 the fugitives were hastening. 
 
 Presently she saw that for which she waited. 
 In the reek of smoke about the burning gate, 
 towards which she looked and the flames of which 
 filled the street with a smoky glare the glitter of 
 steel shone out ; and in a moment, rank on rank, 
 a dense column of men appeared, marching shoul- 
 der to shoulder. She watched them come nearer 
 and nearer, filling the street from wall to wall, 
 until she could see the glare of their eyes; then
 
 174 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 with a cry which was lost in the tumult she 
 rushed on the bayonets. 
 
 With eyes shut, with arms open to receive the 
 thrust. But the man whom she had singled out 
 for one she had singled out dropped his point 
 with an oath, and dealt her a buffet with butt and 
 elbow that flung her aside unhurt. A second did 
 the same, and a third, until, bandied from one to 
 another, she fell against the wall, breathless and 
 dizzy, but unhurt. 
 
 The column swept on; and she rose. She had 
 escaped by a miracle, as it seemed to her. But 
 despair still held her, and the roar of a mine ex- 
 ploding not far off, the stunning report of w r hich 
 was followed by heartrending wails, drove her 
 again on her fate. She had not far to look, for 
 hard on the foot followed a troop of dragoons. 
 The horses, excited by the fire and the explosion, 
 were plunging in every direction ; and even as the 
 crazed woman's eyes alighted on them one fell and 
 threw its rider. It seemed to her that she saw her 
 doom; and, darting from the wall, she flung her- 
 self before them. 
 
 What was one woman on such a night, in such 
 an inferno? The torrent of iron, remorseless, un- 
 checked, thundered over her and drove on along 
 the street. It seemed impossible that she should 
 have escaped. Yet when some came to look to the 
 fallen soldier whose neck was broken the woman 
 beside him rose unhurt and without a scratch, and
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE WALL 175 
 
 staggered to the wall. There she leaned one mo- 
 ment to recover her breath and shake off her gid- 
 diness, and a second to think; then with a new 
 expression on her face, an expression between hope 
 and fear, she took her way weakly along the 
 street. The first turning on the right, the second 
 on the left brought her unmolested for the enemy 
 were quelling the last resistance in the Square to 
 the front of the House on the Wall. She looked 
 up eagerly and saw that the windows were dark ; 
 looked at the door, and by the light of the distant 
 fire saw that it was closed. 
 
 Still she scarcely dared to hope that the thing 
 was true ; that thing which her miraculous escape 
 had suggested to a mind almost unhinged. It 
 took her more than a minute to mount the steps 
 and push the heavy door open, and satisfy herself 
 that in the outer room at least all was as she had 
 left it. A spark of fire still glowed on the hearth ; 
 she groped her way to it, and blew it into a 
 flame; and with shaking hands she lit a spill of 
 wood and waved it above her head, then held it. 
 
 Yes, here all was as she had left it. But in the 
 farther room the room? What would she find 
 there? She stared at the door and dared not 
 open it ; then with a desperate hand tore it open, 
 and stood on the threshold. 
 
 Yes, and here ! Here, too, all was as she had 
 left it. She waved the little brand above her head 
 heedless of the sparks, waved it until it flamed
 
 176 IN KINGS 7 BYWAYS 
 
 high and cast a light into every corner. But the 
 searcher's eyes sought only one thing, saw only 
 one thing, and that was the mask of brickwork 
 that blocked the great window. 
 
 It was untouched ! It was untouched ! She had 
 hoped as much for the last five minutes; for 
 everything, the closed door, the unchanged room 
 had pointed to it. Yet now that she was assured 
 of it, and knew for certain that she had not done 
 the thing that guilty as she had been in will, not 
 one life lost that night lay at her door, not one 
 outrage, she fell on her face and wept wept, 
 though it was the sweetest moment of her life, 
 prayed though she sought nothing but to thank 
 God prayed and wept with childish cries of grati- 
 tude, until the light at her side went out and left 
 her in darkness, and through a rift in the masonry 
 a single star peered in at her. 
 
 In Huymonde there was wailing enough that 
 night; ruin and loss, and a broadcasting of life- 
 long sentences of penury. One fell to the Burgo- 
 master's lot ; and had she still aught against him 
 but she had not the score was paid. And many 
 prayed, and a few, when morning came, and 
 showed their roofs still standing, gave thanks. 
 But to this woman prostrate through the hours 
 on the floor of the forsaken House on the Wall, 
 all that night was one long prayer and thanks- 
 giving. For she had passed through the fire, the 
 smell of the singeing was on her garments, and 
 yet she was saved.
 
 HUNT, THE OWLER 
 
 (1696) 
 
 SOMETHING more than two centuries ago and 
 just two years after Queen Mary's death when 
 William the Third had been eight years on the 
 throne, and the pendulum of public sentiment, ac- 
 celerated by the brusqueness of his manners and 
 no longer retarded by his consort's good nature, 
 was swinging surely and steadily to the Stuart 
 side, the discovery of a Jacobite plot to assassi- 
 nate the King on his return from hunting set back 
 the balance with a shock which endured to the 
 end of his reign. 
 
 It was the King's habit to go on Saturdays in 
 his coach to Richmond Park, returning to Ken- 
 sington in the evening ; and the scheme, laid bare, 
 was to fall upon him in a narrow lane leading 
 from the river to Turnham Green, where the miry 
 nature of the ground rendered his progress slow. 
 For complicity in this plot nine persons, differing 
 much in rank, from Sir John Fenwick, who had 
 been Colonel of King Charles's Life Guards, to 
 Keyes, a private in the Blues, suffered on the 
 scaffold; and for a time all England rang with 
 it. The informers, Porter and Goodman, were 
 
 viewed with an abhorrence hardly less than that 
 12
 
 178 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 which the plot itself excited in honest circles ; and 
 in this odium a man shared in some small degree, 
 who, though he had not been a party to the plot, 
 had stooped, under the stress of confinement and 
 the fear of death, to give some evidence. 
 
 This was James Hunt, the Owler, or smuggler, a 
 name forgotten now, famous then. For years his 
 house, in a lonely situation in the dreariest part 
 of Romney Marsh, had been the favourite house 
 of call for Jacobites bound for St. Germains or 
 returning thence. At regular intervals, if wind 
 and tide served, a packet-boat ran between it 
 and the French coast, and between whiles the 
 hiding-places in his rambling old house, which had 
 been originally contrived to hold runlets of Nantz 
 and bales of Lyons, lodged men whose faces were 
 known in the Mall and St. James's, and whose 
 titles were not less real because for the nonce they 
 wore them, with their stars, in their pockets. 
 Naturally, in the general break-up consequent on 
 the discovery of the Turnham Green plot, these 
 practices came to light, the lonely house in the 
 marshes was entered, and Hunt was himself seized 
 and conveyed to London under a strong guard. 
 There he lay in the Marshalsea until, by discov- 
 ering the names of certain persons who had used 
 his hiding-places, he was permitted to ransom his 
 life. 
 
 When all was told he was of no further use to 
 the Government, He was released, and one fine
 
 HUNT THE OWLER 179 
 
 morning in September, '96, he walked out of his 
 prison a morose and lonely man. Resolute and 
 daring by nature, but accustomed to live in the 
 open, with the sound of the lark in his ears, it 
 was only in the solitude of his cell that he had 
 fallen below himself. Now, under the open sky, he 
 paid the penalty in a load of shame and remorse. 
 His feet carried him to the Jacobite house of call 
 in Maiden Lane, whither he had directed his nag 
 to be sent; but on his arrival at the inn his eye 
 told him that the place was changed. The ostler, 
 who had been his slave, looked askance at him, 
 the landlord, once his obedient servant, turned 
 his back. He was no longer Mr. Hunt, of Rom- 
 ney, but Hunt the Approver, Hunt the Evidence. 
 Flinging down a crown and a curse he rode des- 
 perately out of the yard, and made haste to leave 
 London behind him. 
 
 But in the country it was little better. At inns 
 on the Dover road, where he had swaggered in old 
 days the hero of a transparent mystery, and 
 only less admired than the famous Mr. Birken- 
 head, the Jacobite post, whom even the Tower 
 failed to confine at these his reception was now 
 cold and formal ; and presently the man's heart 
 and hopes went forward and settled hungrily on 
 the two things left to him in this changed world, 
 his home in the marshes and his girl. His heart 
 cried home ! The slighting looks of men who 
 would have succumbed to a tithe of his tempta-
 
 180 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 tions, would not reach him there; there he had 
 a reason for believing it he would still read love 
 and welcome in his child's eyes. 
 
 He was so far from having a turn for sentiment 
 that the gibbet at Dartford, though he had lain 
 down and risen up for weeks under the shadow of 
 the gallows, caused him no qualms as he passed 
 under it ;' nor the man who hung in chains upon 
 it. But when he rode up to the tavern at the 
 last stage short of Romney and saw Trot Eubank, 
 the Romney apothecary, loitering before the house, 
 he drove an oath through his closed teeth. 
 
 The man of drugs was too distant to hear it; 
 nevertheless he smiled, and not pleasantly. The 
 apothecary had red cheeks and a black wig, and 
 a splayed face that promised heartiness. His 
 small fishy eyes, however, with a cast in them 
 that was next door to a squint, belied the prom- 
 ise. He came up to Hunt's stirrup and gave him 
 joy of his freedom very loudly. "And you will 
 find all well at home," he continued. "All well 
 and hearty." 
 
 Hunt thanked him coldly, watered his horse, 
 and drank a cup of ale with the landlord; who 
 looked at him pitifully, as at a man once admi- 
 rable and now fallen. Then he climbed into his 
 saddle again and started briskly. But he had not 
 ridden a hundred paces before Eubank, on his old 
 white mare, was at his side. "My way is your 
 way," said he.
 
 HUNT THE OWLER 181 
 
 Hunt grunted, and wondered how long that had 
 been so; for New Romney, where the apothecary 
 lived, lay to the right. But he said nothing. 
 
 "They have quartered three soldiers on you," 
 Eubank continued, squinting out of the corner of 
 one eye to mark the effect of his words, "and an 
 officer." 
 
 The smuggler checked his horse. "As if I had 
 not done enough for them!" he cried bitterly. 
 
 "Umph!" said the apothecary, drily, and with 
 meaning. " The truth, the whole truth, and noth- 
 ing but the truth ! Eh, Mr. Hunt?" 
 
 He spoke below his breath, but Hunt caught 
 the words and turned on him, his face blazing 
 with rage. "You dirty tar-mixer!" he cried, 
 flinging caution to the winds. "What do you 
 mean? And how dare you ride out to meet me? 
 If you have anything to say, say it, and begone." 
 
 "Softly, softly, Mr. Hunt," Eubank answered, 
 his face a shade paler. "You know what I mean. 
 There was a name wanting in your evidence in 
 your deposition. A name lacking, d'ye take me?" 
 
 "A name?" 
 
 "Ay, Mr. Fayle's. And Mr. Fayle is missing, 
 too. But I don't think," the apothecary contin- 
 ued cunningly, his eyes gazing far apart, "that 
 he is in France. I think that he is nearer Rom- 
 ney. And that is why they have quartered three 
 soldiers on you." 
 
 "You villain!" Hunt cried, his voice shaking
 
 182 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 with passion. "This is your work." And he 
 raised his heavy riding-whip, and made as if he 
 would ride the other down. The two were alone 
 on the marsh. 
 
 But quick as thought Eubank lugged a pistol 
 from his holster and levelled it. 
 
 "Softly, Mr. Hunt," he said. "Softly! I warn 
 you, if anything happens to me, it is known who 
 is with me. Besides, I mean you no harm." 
 
 "And no good," said the smuggler, between 
 his teeth. "What do you want?" 
 
 "What I have always wanted," the other an- 
 swered. "Is there any harm in wanting a wife?" 
 he added, a whine in his voice. 
 
 "Yes, when she does not want you," Hunt re- 
 torted. 
 
 "She will want me when the other is out of the 
 way," the apothecary answered sullenly. 
 
 "Out of the way?" 
 
 "Ay; in France, or there!" and the apothe- 
 cary nodded towards the gibbet on Dymchurch 
 Flat, which they were just approaching. "It is 
 for her to choose," he added softly. "This side 
 or that!" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "If she takes me, Fayle may go hang, or cross 
 the water, or as you please, so that he go far 
 enough. But if she will have him " 
 
 "Well?" Hunt said; for Eubank paused, squint- 
 ing horribly.
 
 HUNT THE OWLEB 183 
 
 "She will marry him there!" the apothecary 
 answered, pointing to the gibbet. 
 
 "Ay?" 
 
 "I know that he is here," Eubank continued, 
 his voice low, " and he cannot escape me. She has 
 bubbled the soldiers ; they do not know him. And 
 for aught I know he goes out and in, and no one 
 is the wiser. And the game may be played as 
 long as you please. But from to-day I am there." 
 
 "You!" Hunt cried. 
 
 "To be sure," Eubank answered, letting his ill- 
 concealed triumph appear. "At the farm. I am 
 the officer. Ah, would you? Mr. Hunt, back! 
 Back, or I fire." 
 
 The smuggler, on the impulse of the moment, 
 had gone near to striking him down ; in face of the 
 pistol and common-sense he lowered his hand, 
 cursed him, and bade him keep his distance for 
 the cur he was; and so with the width of the 
 track between them the two rode on, like dogs 
 ill-coupled, Eubank keeping a squinting watch on 
 Hunt's movements, Hunt with his face hard set, 
 and a gleam of fear in his eyes. 
 
 A little later he spied his daughter waiting and 
 watching for him, on the dyke near the farm a 
 lissom, graceful figure, with wind-blown hair and 
 skirts, visible half a mile away. Possibly he 
 wished then that he had struck hard and once 
 while the man and he were alone on the Marsh. 
 But it was too late. She was there, and in a mo-
 
 184 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 ment the meeting so long and tenderly anticipated 
 was over, and the girl, gently disengaging herself 
 with wet cheeks from his arms, turned to his 
 companion. 
 
 "You may go, Mr. Eubank," she said austerely. 
 "We do not need you. My father is at home 
 now." 
 
 But the apothecary, cringing and smiling, fal- 
 tered that he was that he was coming to the 
 house. 
 
 The words were barely audible, for his courage, 
 not his malice, failed him under her eyes. At any 
 rate she did not understand. "To our house?" 
 she said. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, mouthing nervously, and 
 looking his meanest, in his vain endeavour to ap- 
 pear at ease. 
 
 Still she did not comprehend, and she looked to 
 her father for light. "Mr. Eubank is quartered on 
 us," he said grimly. 
 
 And then for certain he wished that he had 
 closed with the man while they were alone; and 
 had taken the chance of what might follow, pistol 
 or no pistol. For he saw the healthy brown of sun 
 and wind fade from her cheeks, and her grey eyes 
 dilate with sudden terror; and he read in these 
 signs the perfect confirmation of the misgiving he 
 had begun to entertain. He knew as certainly as 
 if she had told him that Mr. Fayle, of Fawlcourt, 
 was hidden at the farm. And what was worse,
 
 HUNT THE OWLER 185 
 
 that Eubank, if he had eyes, could not fail to 
 know it also. 
 
 It was a relief to all three when a soldier saun- 
 tered into sight, mooning up the path from the 
 farm, and civilly greeting the owner, said some- 
 thing about drinking his health. No further words 
 passed then between them, but all moved together 
 towards the house, each avoiding the other's 
 eyes. The threshold reached, there was a mo- 
 mentary pause, the girl looking full at the in- 
 truder with a flame of passion in her face, as if 
 she defied him to enter. But Eubank's eyes were 
 lowered, he saw nothing, and with a smirk, and 
 a poor show of making apology, he went in. 
 
 Hunt thought of force, and weighed the odds in 
 his mind. But fresh from prison, under the ban of 
 Government, and with a wholesome dread of the 
 Marshalsea, he shrank from the attempt. And 
 matters, once they were in the house, went so 
 quietly, that he began to fancy that he had been 
 mistaken. For one thing, the girl sought no 
 private word with him, was obtrusively public, 
 and once gripped the nettle danger in a way that 
 startled him. It was at the evening meal. Eu- 
 bank, ill at ease and suspicious, was stealing 
 glances this way and that, his one eye on the settle 
 that screened the entrance, the other on the stair- 
 case door that led to the upper floor. On a sud- 
 den she rose as if she must speak or choke. "Mr. 
 Eubank," she cried, "you are here to hunt down
 
 186 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Mr. Fayle ! You think that he is in my room ! 
 My room ! I read it in your eyes, you cur ! You 
 traitor ! " 
 
 "Hush!" Hunt said in warning. This was no 
 open fight such as he had dared a score of times ; 
 and the malice in the man's face frightened him. 
 
 "But, I will speak !" she cried, fighting with her 
 passion. "He thinks it, and he shall search! 
 Gogo now ! Leave your men here, sir, to watch, 
 and do you see for yourself that he is not there ! 
 And then leave the house!" 
 
 He was not at all for going to search, and 
 cringed and muttered an apology ; but she would 
 have him, and as good as forced him. Then, when 
 he had searched as much as he pleased and it 
 was little, with her burning eyes watching him 
 from the doorway she brought him down again 
 and bade him go. "Go !" she cried. 
 
 "I never thought that he was there," he said 
 slyly, smiling at the floor. And of course he did 
 not go, and she could not make him; and the 
 desperate attempt failed as hopelessly as her 
 father could have told her it would. 
 
 The whole position was strange. The tall clock 
 ticked in the corner of the great warm panelled 
 kitchen; where the fire shone cosily on delft and 
 pewter, and on the china dogs and Nankin idols 
 that skippers, bringing cargoes of Hollands and 
 Mechlin, had given to the Owler's daughter. 
 Through the open window the belated bees could
 
 HUNT THE OWLEE 187 
 
 be heard among the hollyhocks, and a frugal 
 swallow hawked to and fro for flies. The quiet 
 that falls on a farm in the evening lay on every- 
 thing. 
 
 But within was a difference. There, to say noth- 
 ing of the soldiers, who, irritated by Eubank's 
 supervision, hung about the open windows listen- 
 ing sullenly, the three never ceased to watch and 
 observe one another, ready to spring, ready to 
 fall back at a sign. Of all, perhaps, Hunt was 
 most mystified. He knew that in the search which 
 had attended his arrest the premises had been 
 ransacked from roof to cellar; that every locker 
 and hiding-place had been laid open and discov- 
 ered; and that apart from this Eubank, who 
 had played jackal in many of his adventures, was 
 familiar with all, even the most secret. Where, 
 then, was Fayle? 
 
 He learned only too soon. When it came to 
 closing time, "Your woman is not in," said one 
 of the soldiers; and he looked at the girl. 
 
 "Woman?" said Eubank, with meaning; "I 
 have seen no woman." 
 
 "She was here at mid-day," the man answered, 
 without suspicion. 
 
 Perhaps the girl had been expecting it, for she 
 did not blench, though Eubank's eyes were on her 
 face. "Then leave the door on the latch," she 
 said; and she added, with fine contempt, "If
 
 188 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 a wench has a lover you need not tell the 
 town!" 
 
 She went upstairs with that, and Hunt, who was 
 tired and mystified and in a poor humour things 
 at home promising to turn out as ill as matters 
 abroad, went to his den off the kitchen and shut 
 himself in to sulk. For the use of Eubank and the 
 soldiers two pallets had been laid in a room on 
 the farther side of the kitchen if they chose to 
 use them; but with the door on the latch Hunt 
 had a shrewd suspicion that they would sit up 
 and watch. They soon fell silent, however, and 
 though the remembrance of the events which had 
 happened since he last lay there kept him long 
 waking, and in miserable mood, he heard neither 
 voices nor movements. For himself he was sick at 
 heart thinking of the girl and her lover, and 
 furious at the treachery of the hound who pur- 
 sued her. Nevertheless, Nature would have its 
 way, and he was in the act of sinking into slum- 
 ber when a cry which pierced the night and was 
 followed by a discord of voices, raised in sharp 
 contention, brought him startled to his feet. 
 
 He had little doubt that Eubank and his men 
 had seized Fayle in the act of entering the house ; 
 and enraged, yet bitterly aware of his impotence, 
 he huddled on some clothes, and in a twinkling 
 was out of his room. But in the kitchen, of 
 which the outer door stood wide open to the 
 night, was only Eubank; who, without his wig,
 
 HUNT THE OWLER 189 
 
 and with a pistol poised in his uncertain hand, 
 had entrenched himself in the angle between the 
 settle and the hearth. The smuggler, seeing no 
 one else, vented his wrath on him. 
 
 "You dog!" he cried. "Are honest men to be 
 kept awake by such as you? What does this 
 mean?" 
 
 "It means that we have got your fine son-in- 
 law!" the other retorted with venom. "And we 
 are going to keep him. So your distance, if you 
 please. I know you of old, and if you come within 
 a yard of me I will put a ball into you. Now 
 mark that !" 
 
 "You have got him?" said Hunt, restraining 
 himself with difficulty. "Where?" 
 
 "They are bringing him," Eubank answered. 
 "You will see him soon enough." And then, as 
 one of the soldiers appeared in the doorway, 
 "Have you got him?" the apothecary cried eag- 
 erly. 
 
 "Ay, ay," the man said. 
 
 "But where is he?" 
 
 "Hughes and Lort are bringing him." 
 
 "Are they enough?" Eubank cried anxiously. 
 
 "Plenty," the soldier answered with some scorn. 
 "He made no fight." 
 
 "I'll lay you caught him under her window?" 
 Eubank returned, licking his lips. 
 
 The man nodded ; then stood twiddling his cap, 
 and looking ashamed of himself. For Kate Hunt
 
 190 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 had just appeared at the open staircase door, 
 and thence, raised a step above the floor, with a 
 hand on each post, was taking in the scene. 
 
 Eubank who did not see her chuckled. "I 
 thought so," he said, with an evil grin; and be- 
 tween his bald head and his vile triumph he 
 looked as ugly as sin itself. "I knew he would 
 be there. She did not deceive me, with her door 
 on the latch!" 
 
 Pistol, or no pistol, Hunt nearly fell upon him. 
 The owler only refrained because he became aware 
 of his daughter's presence, and to his great be- 
 wilderment read in her face not horror or misery, 
 but a strange passionate relief. He turned from 
 her they were bringing in the prisoner. It was no 
 surprise to him when Eubank, with a howl of 
 consternation, stepped back almost into the fire. 
 "You fools!" the apothecary cried, all his ma- 
 lignity appearing in his face, "that is not the 
 man ! That is not " 
 
 "Mr. Fayle?" said the prisoner coolly. "No, it 
 is not. And yet, Mr. Eubank, I think you know 
 me. Or, you should know me. You have seen me 
 often enough." 
 
 The apothecary stared, started, drew a deep 
 breath of relief, and was himself again. "Yes, I 
 know you Mr. Birkenhead," he said. "I have 
 lost Fayle, but I have won a thousand guineas. 
 Lads ! " he continued, raising his voice almost to 
 a scream, "we have shot at the pigeon and killed
 
 HUNT THE OWLER 191 
 
 the crow ! We have killed the crow ! It is Bir- 
 kenhead, the Post the Jacobite Post ! And there 
 is a thousand guineas on his head ! " 
 
 Hunt gathered himself together. "Mr. Birken- 
 head," he said, "we are two to four, but say the 
 word, and " 
 
 "I'll say a word for you presently," the Jaco- 
 bite answered with a quick look of acknowledg- 
 ment, "where we are going. But first, to show 
 Mr. Eubank that he is more lucky than he thinks, 
 and has caught his pigeon as well as his crow. 
 Fayle," he continued, raising his voice, "come in ! " 
 
 A gawky, long-limbed woman stalked in, smiling 
 grimly at Eubank, but with the tail of his eye on 
 the girl in the doorway. Eubank drew back, and 
 the colour faded from his cheeks. He breathed 
 hard, and the pistol in his hand wavered. " Look 
 here," he began. "Let us talk about this." 
 
 But the Jacobite raised his hand for silence. 
 "Dewhurst!" he cried. 
 
 A tall, swarthy seaman, with a scarred cheek 
 and a knitted nightcap, stepped briskly in, a cut- 
 lass in his hand. 
 
 "Fawcus!" 
 
 Another entered, who but for the scar might 
 have been his twin. 
 
 " Bonaventure ! And Mr. Eubank," Birkenhead 
 continued, lowering his voice and speaking with 
 treacherous civility, "let me warn you not to be 
 too free with that pistol, for these good fellows
 
 192 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 will assuredly put you on the fire if any one is 
 hurt. Is Bonaventure there? Yes. Moyreau? 
 Yes. Valentin? I am sure that you understand 
 me, Mr. Eubank. You will be careful." 
 
 But the warning was needless. As man after 
 man filed in and formed up before him all armed 
 to the teeth, and all wild, reckless fellows in sea- 
 boots, nightcaps, and tarry jerkins Eubank 's 
 craven heart melted within him. Setting his pis- 
 tol down on the settle, he stood speechless, sallow, 
 shaking with fear, such fear as almost stays the 
 heart, yet leaves the brain working leaves the 
 man created in God's image to be dragged out 
 to his death, writhing and shrieking a sight to 
 haunt brave men's memories. 
 
 He was spared that, yet came near to it. "Mr. 
 Eubank," said Birkenhead sternly, "you will 
 come with me. I have a sloop at the old landing- 
 place, and before daylight we shall be in Calais 
 roads. There is a cell in the Bastille waiting for 
 you, and I shall see you in it. I'll hold you a 
 hostage for Bernardi." 
 
 The wretch shrieked and fell on his knees and 
 grovelled, crying for mercy ; but Birkenhead only 
 answered, "Get up, man, get up; or must my 
 men prick you?" And then to the others, "Mr. 
 Hunt," he continued, "you too must come with 
 us. But have no fear. Believe me you will be bet- 
 ter there than here, and shall be well reported. 
 Mr. Fayle and your daughter will come, of course.
 
 HUNT THE OWLER 193 
 
 Tie the others and leave them. And hurry, men, 
 hurry. Bring your money, Mr. Hunt ; King James 
 has none too much of that. I can give you ten 
 minutes to pack, and then we must be moving 
 lest they take the alarm in Romney." 
 
 As a fact they took no alarm in Romney. But 
 a shepherd, belated that night with a sick ewe, 
 saw a long line of lanthorns go bobbing across 
 the marsh to the sea, and went home and told 
 his neighbours that Hunt was at his old tricks 
 again. One of them, knowing that the soldiers 
 were there, laughed in his face and went to see, 
 and learning the truth carried the story into Rom- 
 ney, whence it spread to London and brought 
 down a mob of horse and foot and messengers, 
 and from one end of England to the other the 
 descent and the audacity of it were a nine days' 
 wonder. However, by that time the nest was 
 cold and the birds long flown, and Birkenhead, 
 with one more plume in his crest, was preening 
 his feathers at St. Germains. 
 13
 
 THE TWO PAGES 
 
 (1580) 
 
 YES, I have seen changes. When I first served 
 at court, whither I went in the year 1579 seven 
 years after the St. Bartholomew the King re- 
 ceived all in his bedchamber, and there every even- 
 ing played primero with his intimates, until it was 
 time to retire; Kosny and Biron, and the great 
 men of the day, standing, or sitting on chests 
 round the chamber. If he would be more private 
 he had his cabinet ; or, if the matter were of prime 
 importance, he would take his confidants to an 
 open space in the garden such as the white-mul- 
 berry grove, encircled by the canal at Fontaine- 
 bleau ; where, posting a Swiss guard who did not 
 understand French, at the only bridge that gave 
 access to the place, he could talk without reserve. 
 
 In those days the court rode, or if sick, went in 
 litters. Coaches were only coming into fashion, 
 Henry, who feared nothing else, having so invinci- 
 ble a distaste for them that he was wont to turn 
 pale if the coach in which he travelled swayed 
 more than usual. Ladies, the Queen's mother and 
 her suite excepted, rode sideways on pads, their 
 feet supported by a little board ; and side-saddles 
 were rare. At great banquets the fairest and
 
 THE TWO PAGES 195 
 
 noblest served the tables. We dined at ten in the 
 country and eleven in Paris; instead of at noon, 
 as is the custom now. 
 
 When the King lay alone, his favourite pages 
 took it by turns to sleep at his feet ; the page on 
 duty using a low truckle bed that in the daytime 
 fitted under the King's bed, and at night was 
 drawn out. Not seldom, however, and more often 
 if the times were troublous, he would invite one of 
 his councillors to share his couch, and talk the 
 night through with him; a course which in these 
 days might seem undignified. Frequently he and 
 the Queen received favourite courtiers before they 
 left their beds ; particularly on New Year's morn- 
 ing it was the duty of the Finance Minister to 
 wait on them, and awaken them with a present of 
 medals struck for the purpose. 
 
 And I recall many other changes. But one 
 thing, which some young sparks, with a forward- 
 ness neither becoming in them nor respectful to 
 me, have ventured to suggest, even in my pres- 
 ence that we who lived in the old war time were 
 a rougher breed and less dainty and chivalrous 
 than the Buckinghams and Bassompierres of to- 
 dayI roundly deny. On the contrary, I would 
 have these to know that he who rode in the wars 
 with Henry of Guise or against him had for his 
 example not only the handsomest but the most 
 courtly man of all times ; and has nothing to learn 
 from a set of pert fellows who, unable to acquire
 
 196 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the stately courtesy that becomes a gentleman, 
 are fain to air themselves in a dandified-simpering 
 trim of their own, with nought gallant about 
 them but their ribbons and furbelows. 
 
 That such are stouter than the men of my day, 
 no one dare maintain. I have seen Crillon, whom 
 veterans called the brave ; and I have talked with 
 La Noue of the Iron Arm ; for the rest, I can tell 
 you of one he was a boy fourteen years old- 
 known to me in my youth, who had it not in him 
 to fear. 
 
 He was page, along with me, to the King of 
 Navarre; a year my junior, and my rival. At 
 riding, shooting and fencing he was the better ; at 
 paume and tennis he always won. But naturally, 
 being the elder, I had the greater strength, and 
 when the sharp sting of his wit provoked me, I 
 could drub him, and did so more than once. No 
 extremity of defeat, however, no, nor any severity 
 of punishment could wring from Antoine a word of 
 submission ; prostrate, with bleeding face, he was 
 as ready to fly at my throat as before I laid hand 
 on him. And more, though I was the senior, he 
 was the life and soul and joy of the ante-chamber; 
 the first in mischief, the last in retreat; the first 
 to cry a nick-name after a burly priest who 
 chanced to pass us as we lounged at the gates 
 and the first to be whipped when it turned out 
 that the King had a mind to please the clergy. 
 
 It followed that from the first I viewed him with
 
 THE TWO PAGES 197 
 
 a strange mixture of rivalry and affection ; ready 
 at one moment to quarrel with him and beat him 
 for a misword, and the next to let him beat me if it 
 pleased him. At this time the King of Navarre had 
 his court sometimes at Montauban, sometimes 
 at Nerac; and there were rumours of a war be- 
 tween him and the King of France ; to be clear, it 
 was this year, that in the hope of maintaining the 
 peace, the latter's mother, the Queen Catherine, 
 came with a glittering train of ladies to Nerac, 
 and paid her court to our King, and there were 
 ball and pageants and gay doings by day and 
 night. But the Huguenots were not lightly taken 
 in, and under this fair mask suspected treachery, 
 and not without reason; for one night, during a 
 ball, Catherine's friends seized a strong town, and 
 but for Henry's readiness who took horse that 
 moment and before daylight had surprised a town 
 of France to set against it they would have 
 gained the advantage. So in the event Catherine 
 did little, no one trusting her, and in the end she 
 returned to Paris wiser than she came ; but for the 
 time the visit lasted the court gaieties continued, 
 and there were masques and dances, and the 
 thought of war was seemingly far from the minds 
 of all. 
 
 Now in the room which was then the King's 
 Chamber at Montauban, is a window, at a great 
 height from the ground, a very deep ravine, which 
 is one of the main defences of the city, lying below
 
 198 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 it. In the adjoining ante-chamber is a similar 
 window, and between the two is a projecting but- 
 tress, and outside the sill of each is a stone ledge 
 a foot wide, which runs round the buttress. I do 
 not know who first thought of it, but one day 
 when the King was absent and we pages were 
 lounging in the room which was against the 
 rules, since we should have been in the ante-cham- 
 ber some one challenged Antoine to walk on the 
 ledge round the buttress, going out by the one 
 window and returning by the other. I have said 
 that the ledge was but a foot wide, the depth 
 below infinite. It turned me sick only to look 
 down and see the hawks hang and circle in the 
 gulf. Nevertheless, before any could speak, An- 
 toine was outside the casement poising himself on 
 the airy ledge ; a moment, and with his face turned 
 inwards to the wall, his slight figure outlined 
 against the sky, he began to edge his way round 
 the buttress. 
 
 I called to him to come back; I expected each 
 moment to see him reel and fall ; the others, too, 
 stood staring with uneasy faces ; for they had not 
 thought that he would do it. But he did not 
 heed ; an instant, and he vanished round the but- 
 tress, and still we stood, and no one moved; no 
 one moved, until with a shout he showed himself 
 at the other window, and sprang down into the 
 ante-chamber. His eyes were bright with the tri- 
 umph of it ; his hair waved back from his brow as
 
 THE TWO PAGES 199 
 
 if the breeze from the gulf still stirred it. He cried 
 to me to do the feat in my turn, he pointed his 
 finger at me, dared me, and before them all he 
 called me "Coward! Coward!" 
 
 But I am not ashamed to confess a weakness 
 I share with many men of undoubted courage I 
 could never face a great height; and though I 
 burned with wrath and shame, and raged under 
 his taunts, though I could have confronted any 
 other form of death, at his instigation, or I 
 thought I could, though I even went so far as to 
 leap on the seat within the window and stand 
 and stand irresolute I stopped there. My head 
 turned, my skin crept. I could not do it. The 
 victory was with Antoine; he whom I had 
 thrashed for some impertinence only the night 
 before, now held me up to scorn and drove me 
 from the room with jeers and laughter. 
 
 None of the others had greater courage; none 
 dared do the feat; but I was the eldest and the 
 biggest, and the iron entered into my heart. Day 
 after day for a week, whenever the chamber was 
 empty, I crept to the window and looked down 
 and watched the kites hover and drop, and 
 plumbed the depth with my eyes. But only to 
 turn away sick. I could not do it. Eesolve as I 
 might at night, in the morning, on the window 
 ledge, with the giddy deep below me, I was a 
 coward. 
 
 One evening, however, when the King was sup-
 
 200 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 ping with M. de Koquelaure, and I believed the 
 chamber to be deserted, I chanced to go to the 
 window of the ante-chamber after nightfall. I 
 stepped on the seat that I had done often be- 
 fore ; but this time, looking down, I found that I 
 no longer quailed. The darkness veiled the ra- 
 vine ; to my astonishment I felt no qualms. More- 
 over, I had had supper, my heart was high ; and 
 in a moment it occurred to me that now now in 
 the dark I could do it, and regain my pride. 
 
 I did not give myself time to think, but went 
 straight out to the gallery, where I found Antoine 
 and two or three others teasing Mathurine the 
 woman-fool. My entrance was the signal for a 
 taunt. " Ho, Miss White Face ! Come to borrow 
 Mathurine's petticoats?" Antoine cried, standing 
 out and confronting me. "It is you, is it?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered sharply, meeting his eyes and 
 speaking in a tone I had not used for a week. 
 "And if you do not mend your manners, Master 
 Antoine " 
 
 "Go round the buttress!" he retorted with a 
 grimace. 
 
 "I will!" I answered. "I will! And then " 
 
 "You dare not!" 
 
 "Come!" I said; "come, and see! And when I 
 have done it, my friend " 
 
 I did not finish the sentence, but led the way 
 back to the ante-chamber; assuming a courage 
 which, as a fact, was fast oozing from me. The
 
 THE TWO PAGES 201 
 
 cold air that met me as I approached the open 
 window sobered me still more ; but Antoine's jeers 
 and my companions' incredulity stung me to the 
 necessary point, and at once I stepped on the 
 ledge, and without giving myself time to think, 
 turned my face to the wall and began to edge 
 myself slowly along it; my heart in my mouth, 
 my flesh creeping, as I gradually realized where 
 I was ; every nerve in my body strung to quiver- 
 ing point. 
 
 Certainly in the daylight I could not have done 
 it. Even now, when the depth over which I bal- 
 anced myself was hidden by the darkness, and I 
 had only my fancy to conquer, I trembled, my 
 knees shook, a bat skimming by my ear almost 
 caused me to fall; I was bathed in perspiration. 
 The depth drew me ; I dared not for my life look 
 into it. Yet I turned the corner of the buttress in 
 safety, and edged my way along its front, glueing 
 myself to the wall; and came at last, breathing 
 hard, to the second corner, and turned it, and saw 
 with a gasp of relief the lights in the chamber. 
 A moment a moment more, and I should be 
 safe. 
 
 At that instant I heard something, and cast a 
 wary eye backwards the way I had come. I saw 
 a shadowy form at my elbow, and I guessed that 
 Antoine was following me. With a shudder I 
 hastened my steps to avoid him, and I was al- 
 ready in the angle formed by the wall and but-
 
 202 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 tress whence I could leap down into the cham- 
 ber when he called to me. 
 
 " Hist ! " he cried softly. " Stop, man ! the King 
 is there ! He has been there all the time, I think." 
 
 I thought it only too likely, for I could see none 
 of our comrades at the window; and I heard 
 men's deeper voices in the room. To go on, there- 
 fore, and show myself was to be punished ; and I 
 paused and knelt down in the angle where the 
 ledge was wider. I recognized the King's voice, 
 and M. Gourdon's, and that of St. Martin, the 
 captain of the guard ; I caught even their words, 
 and presently, in a minute or two, and against 
 my will, I had surprised a secret so great a 
 secret that I trembled almost as much as I had 
 trembled at the outmost angle of the buttress, 
 hanging between earth and sky. For they were 
 planning the great assault on Cahors ; for the first 
 time I heard named those points that are now 
 household words ; the walnut grove, and the three 
 gates, and the bridge, that fame and France will 
 never forget. I heard all the night, the hour, the 
 numbers to be engaged; and turned quaking to 
 learn what Antoine thought of it. Turned, but 
 neither saw nor addressed him; for he had gone 
 back, and my eye, incautiously cast down, saw 
 far, far beneath me a torch and a little group of 
 men at the bottom of the void. I became giddy 
 at this sudden view of the abyss, wavered an in- 
 stant, and then with a cry of fear I chose the less
 
 THE TWO PAGES 203 
 
 pressing danger, and tumbled forward into the 
 room. 
 
 M. de Roquelaure had his point at my throat 
 before I could rise; and I had a vision of half a 
 dozen men part risen, of half a dozen startled 
 faces all glaring at me. Fortunately M. de Rosny 
 knew me and held the other's arm. I was plucked 
 up roughly, and set on my feet before the King, 
 who alone had kept his seat ; and amid a shower 
 of threats I was bidden to explain my presence. 
 
 " You knave ! I wish I had spitted you !" Roque- 
 laure cried, with an oath, when I had done so. 
 "You heard all?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 They scowled at me between wrath and chagrin. 
 "Friend Rosny, you were a fool," M. de Roque- 
 laure said with grimness. 
 
 "I think I was," the other answefed. "But a 
 flogging, a gag, and the black hole will keep his 
 tongue still as long as is needful." 
 
 Henry laughed. "I think we can do better than 
 that!" he said, with a glance of good nature. 
 " Hark you, my lad ; you are big enough to fight. 
 We will trust you, and you shall wear sword for 
 the first time. But if the surprise fail, if word of 
 our coming go before us, we shall know whom to 
 blame, and you will have to reckon with M. de 
 Rosny." 
 
 I fell on my knees and thanked him with tears ; 
 while Rosny and M. St. Martin remonstrated.
 
 204 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Take my word for it, he will blurt it out I" said 
 the one; and the other, "You had better deliver 
 him to me, sire." 
 
 "No," Henry said kindly. "I will trust him. 
 He comes of a good stock ; if the oak bends, what 
 tree shall we trust?" 
 
 "The oak bends fast enough, sire, when it is a 
 sapling," Eosny retorted. 
 
 "In that case you shall apply your sapling!" 
 the King answered, laughing. "Hark ye, my lad, 
 will you be silent?" 
 
 I promised with tears in my eyes; and with 
 that, and a mind full of amazement, I was dis- 
 missed, and left the presence, a grown man ; over- 
 joyed that the greatest scrape of my life had 
 turned out the happiest; foreseeing honour, and 
 rewards, and already scorning the other pages as 
 immeasurably beneath me. It was a full minute 
 before I thought of Antoine, and the chance that 
 he, too, before he turned back, had overheard the 
 King's plan. Then I stood in the passage horri- 
 fied my first impulse to return and tell the King. 
 It came too late, however, for in the mean time 
 he and M. de Rosny had repaired to the closet, 
 and the others had withdrawn ; and while I stood 
 hesitating, Antoine slipped out of the ante-cham- 
 ber, and came to me on the stairs. 
 
 His first words went some way towards relieving 
 me; they told me that he had overheard some- 
 thing but not all ; enough to know that the King
 
 THE TWO PAGES 205 
 
 intended to surprise a place of strength, and a few 
 details, but not the name of the place. As soon 
 as I understood this, and that I had nothing 
 to fear from him, I could not hide my triumph. 
 When he declared his intention of going with the 
 expedition, I laughed at him. 
 
 " You !" I said. "You don't understand. This 
 is not child's play!" 
 
 "And you will not tell me where it is?" he 
 asked, raging. 
 
 "No! Go to your nurse and your pap-boat, 
 child." 
 
 He flew at me at that like a mad cat, and I had 
 to beat him until the blood ran down his face 
 before I could shake him off. Even then, and 
 while I thrust him out sobbing, he begged me to 
 tell him only to tell him. Nor was that all. 
 Through all the next day he haunted me and 
 persecuted me, now with prayers and now with 
 threats ; following me everywhere with eyes of such 
 hot longing that I marvelled at the irrepressible 
 spirit that shone in the lad. 
 
 Of course I told him nothing. Yet I was glad 
 when the next day came, and with it an announce- 
 ment that Henry would visit M. de Gourdon and 
 lie that night at his house, four miles from Mont- 
 auban, where the court then was. Only eight 
 gentlemen were invited to be of the party, with as 
 many ladies ; the troop with a handful of servants 
 riding out of the city about five o'clock, and no
 
 206 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 one the wiser. No one saw anything odd in the 
 visit, nor in my being chosen to attend the King. 
 But I knew; and I was not surprised when we 
 stopped at M. de Gourdon's only to sup, and then 
 getting to horse, rode through the night and the 
 dusky oak woods, by walled farms and hamlets, 
 and under rustling poplars rode many leagues, 
 and forded many streams. The night was hot, it 
 was the month of June ; and it thundered contin- 
 ually, but with no rain. At this point and that 
 bands of men joined us, mysteriously, and in 
 silence; until from the hill with its bracken and 
 walnut trees, we saw the lights of Cahors below 
 us, and the glimmer of the winding Lot, and 
 heard the bells of the city tolling midnight. 
 
 By this time, every road adding to our numbers, 
 we were a great company ; and how we lay hidden 
 through the early night in the walnut grove that 
 looks down on the river all men know; but not 
 the qualms and eagerness that by turns possessed 
 me as I peered through the leaves at the distant 
 lights, nor the prayer I said that I might not 
 shame my race, nor how my heart beat when 
 Henry, who was that day twenty-seven years old, 
 gave the order to advance in the voice of one 
 going to a ball. Two men with a petard then a 
 strange invention led the way through the gloom, 
 attended by ten picked soldiers. After them came 
 fifty of the King's guards, and the King with two 
 hundred foot ; then the main body of a thousand.
 
 THE TWO PAGES 207 
 
 We had the long bridge with its three gates to 
 pass; and beyond these obstacles, a city bitterly 
 hostile, and occupied by a garrison far outnum- 
 bering us. Never, indeed, did men enter on a more 
 forlorn or perilous enterprise. 
 
 I remember to this day how I felt as we ad- 
 vanced through the darkness, and how long it 
 seemed while we waited, huddled and silent, at the 
 head of the bridge, expecting the explosion of the 
 petard, which had been fixed to the first gate. 
 At length it burst, filling the heavens with flame ; 
 before the night closed down again on our pale 
 faces, the leaders were through the breach and 
 past that gate, and charging madly over the 
 bridge, the leading companies all mingled to- 
 gether. 
 
 I had no fear now. If a friendly hand had not 
 pulled me back, I should have run on to the 
 petard which drove in the second gate. As it was, 
 I passed through the second obstacle side by side 
 with the King but went no farther. The garrison 
 was awake now, and a withering fire from fifty 
 arquebuses swept the narrow bridge; those who 
 were not struck stumbled over the dying ; the air 
 was filled with groans and cries; a moment and 
 the very bravest recoiled, and sought safety be- 
 hind the second gate, where we stood in shelter. 
 
 The moment was critical, for now the whole city 
 was aroused. Shouts of triumph rose above the 
 exploding of the guns ; hi every tower bells jangled
 
 208 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 noisily, and on the summit of the last gateway 
 on the bridge, which from every loophole and 
 window poured on us a deadly hail of slugs, a 
 beacon-fire blazed up, turning the black water 
 below us to blood. 
 
 I have said that the moment was critical for 
 France and for us. For a few seconds all hung 
 back. Then St. Martin sprang forward, and by 
 his side Captain Robert, who had fixed the first 
 petard. They darted along the bridge, but only 
 to fall and lie groaning and helpless halfway over. 
 Henry made a movement as if to follow, but 
 young M. de Kosny held him back by force, while 
 half a dozen soldiers made the attempt. Of these 
 four fell at once under the pitiless fire, and two 
 crawled back wounded. It seemed that a man 
 must be more than mortal to pass that space; 
 and while one might count twenty no one 
 moved. 
 
 Captain Robert lay scarcely fifteen paces from 
 us, and by his side the hammer, spike, and petard 
 he had carried. He and they were visible in the 
 glow of ruddy light that poured down on the 
 bridge. Suddenly, while I stood panting and ir- 
 resolute, longing, yet not daring since I saw older 
 men hang back suddenly a hand twitched my 
 sleeve, and I turned to find at my elbow, his hair 
 streaming back from his brow, Antoine! The 
 lad's face and eyes flashed scorn at me. He waved 
 his hand towards the bridge.
 
 THE TWO PAGES 209 
 
 "Coward!" he cried; and he struck me lightly 
 on the cheek with his hand. "Coward! Now 
 follow me, if you dare ! " 
 
 And, before any one could stay him, he darted 
 from the shelter of the gateway in which we 
 stood; and raced on to the bridge. I heard a 
 great shout on our side, and the roar of a volley ; 
 but dully only, for, enraged by the blow and the 
 challenge, I followed him I and a dozen others. 
 Some fell, but he ran on, and I after him. He 
 snatched up the petard and the hammer, I the 
 spike. In a moment, as it seemed to me, we were 
 at the farther gate attaching the engine to it. I 
 held the spike, he hammered it ; the smoke and the 
 frowning archway, to some extent, protected us 
 from the fire of those above. 
 
 I often think of those few seconds with the pride 
 and the garrulousness of an old man. While they 
 lasted we stood alone, separated from our friends 
 by the whole length of the third span of the 
 bridge. For a few seconds only indeed ; then, with 
 a yell of triumph, the remains of Henry's "for- 
 lorn" rushed forward, and though many fell, 
 enough came on. In a trice eager hands took the 
 engine from us, and secured the fuse effectually 
 and lit it, and bore us back I was going to say, 
 out of danger ; but alas ! as a deafening crash and 
 a blaze of light proclaimed the way open and the 
 last gate down, he who had done the deed, and 
 
 opened the way, fell across me, shot from a loop- 
 14
 
 210 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 hole ! As the rain of fragments from the gate fell 
 hissing and splashing in the stream that flowed 
 below, and while the foot streamed over the 
 bridge, and pressed through the breach, Antoine 
 gave a little gasp, and died on my knee. 
 
 The rest all men know; how through five days 
 and nights we fought the great street-fight of 
 Cahors ; how we took no rest, save against walls 
 and doorways, or in the courts of houses we had 
 won ; how we ate and drank with hands smirched 
 with blood, and then to it again ; how we won the 
 city house by house, and foot by foot, until at 
 last the white flag waved from the great tower, 
 and France awoke with a start to know that in 
 the young prince of pleasure, whom she had 
 deemed a trifler, was born the shrewdest states- 
 man and the boldest soldier of all her royal line. 
 
 And Antoine? When I went, after many hours, 
 to seek him, the horse had crossed the bridge, and 
 even his body was gone. How he had traced us, 
 how managed to come to the front so oppor- 
 tunely, whether without him the star of Navarre 
 would have risen so gloriously on that night of 
 '80, never to be forgotten, I cannot say. But 
 when I hear men talk of Crillon and courage- 
 above all, when I hear them talk of the fops and 
 ribboned popinjays of to-day, with their loose 
 breeches and their bell-mouthed boots, I think of 
 my comrade and rival who won Cahors for the 
 King. And I smile,
 
 PART II 
 
 THE DIAEY OF A STATESMAN
 
 THE DIAEY OF A STATESMAN 
 
 ***** 
 THAT which I am about to insert in this place 
 may seem to some to be trifling, and on a parity 
 with the diverting story of M. Boisrose, which I 
 have set down in an earlier part of my memoirs. 
 But among the calumnies of those who have not 
 since the death of the late King ceased to attack 
 me, the statement that I kept from his Majesty 
 things which should have reached his ears, has 
 had a prominent place ; though a thousand times 
 refuted by my friends. I take in hand, therefore, 
 to show by this episode, curious in itself, the full 
 knowledge of affairs which the King had, and to 
 prove that in many matters, which were never 
 permitted to become public, he took a personal 
 share, worthy as much of Haroun as of Alexander. 
 It was my custom, before I entered upon those 
 negotiations with the Prince of Conde which ter- 
 minated in the recovery of the estate of Villebon, 
 where I now reside, to spend a part of the autumn 
 and winter at Rosny. On these occasions, I was 
 in the habit of moving from Paris with a consid- 
 erable train, including not only my Swiss, pages, 
 and grooms, but the maids of honour and wait- 
 ing-women of the Duchess. We halted to take
 
 214 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 dinner at Poissy, and generally contrived to reach 
 Rosny towards nightfall, so as to sup by the light 
 of flambeaux, in a manner enjoyable enough, 
 though devoid of that state which I have ever 
 maintained, and enjoined upon my children, as at 
 once the privilege and burden of rank. 
 
 At the time of which I speak, I had for my 
 favourite charger the sorrel horse which the Duke 
 of Mercoeur presented to me with a view to my 
 good offices at the time of the King's entry into 
 Paris; and which I honestly transferred to his 
 Majesty in accordance with a principle laid down 
 in another place. The King insisted on returning 
 it to me, and for several years I rode it on these 
 annual visits to Kosny. What was more remark- 
 able was, that on each of these occasions it cast a 
 shoe about the middle of the afternoon, and al- 
 ways when we were within a short league of the 
 village of Aubergenville. Though I never had with 
 me less than a half a score of led horses, I had such 
 an affection for the sorrel that I preferred to wait 
 until it was shod, rather than accommodate my- 
 self to a nag of less easy paces ; and would allow 
 my household to precede me, while I stayed be- 
 hind with at most a guard or two, my valet, and 
 a page. 
 
 The forge at Aubergenville was kept by a smith 
 of some skill, a cheerful fellow, whom I rewarded, 
 in view rather of my position than his services, 
 with a gold piece. His joy at receiving what was
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 215 
 
 to him the income of three months was great, and 
 never failed to reimburse me ; in addition to which 
 I took some pleasure in unbending, and learning 
 from this simple peasant and loyal man, what the 
 tax-payers were saying of me and my reforms a 
 duty I felt I owed to the King my master. 
 
 As a man of breeding, it would ill become me to 
 set down the homely truths I thus learned. The 
 conversations of the vulgar are little suited to a 
 nobleman's memoirs. But in this I distinguish 
 between the Duke of Sully and the King's min- 
 ister ; and it is in the latter capacity that I relate 
 what passed on these diverting occasions. "Ho ! 
 Simon," I would say, encouraging the poor man 
 as he came bowing before me. "How goes it, my 
 friend?" 
 
 "Badly," he would answer, "very badly until 
 your lordship came this way." 
 
 "And how was that, little man?" 
 
 "Ah, it is the roads!" he always replied, shak- 
 ing his bald head as he began to set about his 
 business. "The roads since your lordship became 
 Surveyor-General, are so good, that not one horse 
 in a hundred leaves its shoe in a slough ! And 
 then there are so few highwaymen, that not one 
 robber's plates do I replace in a twelvemonth ! 
 That is where it is." 
 
 At this I was highly delighted. "Still, since I 
 began to pass this way times have not been so 
 bad with you, Simon," I would answer.
 
 216 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Thereto he had one invariable reply. "No, 
 thanks to St. Genevie"ve and your Lordship, whom 
 we call in this village the poor man's friend, I 
 have a fowl in the pot." 
 
 This phrase so pleased me, that I repeated it to 
 the king. It tickled his fancy also, and for many 
 years it was a common remark of that good and 
 great ruler, that he would fain live to see every 
 peasant with a fowl in his pot. 
 
 "But why," I remember, I once asked this 
 honest fellow it was on the last occasion of the 
 sorrel falling lame there "do you thank St. 
 Genevieve?" 
 
 "She is my patron saint," he answered. 
 
 "Then you are a Parisian?" 
 
 "Your lordship is always right." 
 
 "But does her saintship do you any good?" I 
 asked curiously. 
 
 "By your lordship's leave. My wife prays to 
 her, and she loosens the nails in the sorrel's 
 shoes." 
 
 "Then she pays off an old grudge," I answered. 
 "There was a time when Paris liked me little. 
 But hark you, Master Smith ! I am not sure 'tis 
 not an act of treason to conspire with Madame 
 Genevieve against the comfort of the King's min- 
 ister. What think you, you rascal? Can you 
 pass the justice-elm without a shiver?" 
 
 This threw the simple fellow into great fear, 
 which the sight of the livre of gold converted into
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 217 
 
 joy. Leaving him still staring at his fortune, I 
 rode away. But when we had gone some little 
 distance, the aspect of his face, when I charged 
 him with treason, or my own unassisted dis- 
 crimination, suggested a clue to the phenomenon. 
 
 "La Trape," I said to my valet the same who 
 was with me at Cahors "what is the name of the 
 inn-keeper at Poissy, at whose house we are ac- 
 customed to dine?" 
 
 "Andrew, may it please your lordship." 
 
 "Ha ! Ha ! I thought so !" I exclaimed, smiting 
 my thigh. "Simon and Andrew his brother! 
 Answer, knave; and if you have permitted me to 
 be robbed these many times, tremble for your 
 ears ! Is he not brother to the smith at Auber- 
 genville who has just shod my horse?" 
 
 La Trape professed to be ignorant on the point. 
 But a groom who had stayed with me, having 
 sought my permission to speak, said it was so, 
 adding that Master Andrew had risen in the world 
 through dealings in hay, which he was wont to 
 take into Paris and sell, and that he did not now 
 acknowledge, or see anything of his brother, the 
 smith. 
 
 On receiving this confirmation of my suspicion, 
 my vanity as well as my love of justice led me to 
 act with the promptitude which I have exhibited 
 in greater emergencies. I rated La Trape for his 
 carelessness in permitting this deception to be 
 practised; and the main body of my attendants
 
 218 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 being now in sight, I ordered him to take two 
 Swiss and arrest both brothers without delay. 
 There remained three hours of daylight, and I 
 judged that by hard riding they might reach 
 Bosny with their prisoners before bedtime. 
 
 I spent some time, while still on the road, in 
 considering what punishment I should inflict on 
 the culprits, and finally laid aside the purpose I 
 had at first conceived of dealing severely with 
 them in favour of a plan that I thought might 
 offer me some amusement. For the execution of 
 this, I depended upon Maignan, my equerry, a 
 man of lively imagination, and the same who had, 
 of his own motion, arranged and carried out the 
 triumphal procession in which I was borne to 
 Kosny, after the battle of Ivry. Before I sat down 
 to supper, I gave him his directions; and, as I 
 had expected, news was brought to me, while I 
 was at table, that the prisoners were without. 
 
 On this, I informed the Duchess and the com- 
 pany for, as was usual, a number of my country 
 neighbours had come to compliment me on my 
 return that there was sport of a rare kind on 
 foot; and we adjourned, Maignan and four pages 
 bearing lights before us, to that end of the terrace 
 which abuts on the linden avenue. Here a score of 
 grooms, holding aloft torches, had been arranged 
 in a semicircle, so that they enclosed an im- 
 promptu theatre, which was as light as in the day. 
 On a sloping bank at the end of the terrace, seats
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 219 
 
 had been placed for those who had supped at my 
 table, while the rest of the company found such 
 places of vantage as they could, their number, in- 
 deed, amounting, with my household, to two hun- 
 dred persons. In the centre of the open space a 
 small forge-fire had been kindled, the red glow of 
 which added much to the strangeness of the scene ; 
 and on the anvil beside it were ranged a number 
 of horses' and donkeys' shoes, with a full comple- 
 ment of tools used by smiths. 
 
 All being ready, I gave the word to bring in the 
 prisoners; and, escorted by La Trape and six of 
 my guards, they were marched into the arena. In 
 their pale and terrified faces, and the shaking 
 limbs which scarce supported them, I read both 
 the consciousness of guilt and the apprehension of 
 immediate punishment ; it was plain that they ex- 
 pected nothing less. I was very willing to play 
 with their fears, and for some time looked at them 
 in silence, while all wondered with lively curiosity 
 what would ensue. In the end, I addressed them 
 gravely, telling the innkeeper that I knew well he 
 had loosened each year a shoe of my horse, in 
 order that his brother might profit by the job of 
 replacing it ; and then I proceeded to reprove the 
 smith for the ingratitude which had led him to 
 return my bounty by the conception of so knavish 
 a trick. 
 
 Upon this they confessed their guilt, and flinging 
 themselves upon their knees, with many tears,
 
 220 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 begged for mercy. After a decent interval I per- 
 mitted myself to be moved. 
 
 "Your lives shall be spared," I pronounced. 
 " But punished you must be. I ordain that Simon 
 the smith fit, nail, and properly secure a pair of 
 iron shoes to Andrew's heels, and that then, 
 Andrew, who by that time will have learned some- 
 what of the smith's art, do the same to Simon. 
 So will you both be taught to avoid such tricks 
 in the future." 
 
 It may well be imagined that a judgment so 
 justly adapted to the offence charmed all save the 
 culprits; and in a hundred ways the pleasure of 
 those present was evinced : to such a degree in- 
 deed that Maignan had difficulty in restoring 
 gravity to the assemblage. This done, however, 
 Master Andrew was taken in hand, and his wooden 
 shoes removed. The tools of his trade were placed 
 before Simon, but he cast glances so piteous, first 
 at his brother's feet, and then at the shoes, as 
 again gave rise to an amount of merriment that 
 surpassed all, my pages in particular well-nigh for- 
 getting my presence, and rolling about in a man- 
 ner unpardonable at another time. However, I 
 rebuked them, and was about to order the sen- 
 tence to be carried into effect, when the remem- 
 brance of the many pleasant simplicities which the 
 smith had uttered to me, acting upon a natural 
 disposition to mercy which the most calumnious 
 of my enemies have never questioned, induced me
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 221 
 
 to give the prisoners a chance of escape. "Lis- 
 ten," I said, "Simon and Andrew. Your sentence 
 has been pronounced and will be executed, unless 
 you can avail yourself of the condition I now 
 offer. You shall have three minutes : if in that 
 time either of you can make a good joke, he shall 
 go free. If not let a man attend to the bellows, 
 La Trape!" 
 
 This charmed my neighbours, who were now 
 well assured that I had not promised them a novel 
 entertainment without good grounds; for the 
 grimaces of the two knaves thus bidden to jest if 
 they would save their skins were so diverting they 
 would have made a nun laugh. The two looked 
 at me with their eyes as wide as plates, and for 
 the whole of the time of grace never a word could 
 they utter save howls for mercy. "Simon," I said 
 gravely, when the time was up, "have you a 
 joke? No. Andrew, my friend, have you a joke? 
 No. Then " 
 
 I was about to order the sentence to be carried 
 out when the innkeeper flung himself again upon 
 his knees and cried out loudly as much to my 
 astonishment as to the regret of the bystanders, 
 who were bent on seeing so strange a shoeing 
 feat " One word, my lord ! One word ! I can 
 give you no joke ! But I can do a service, a ser- 
 vice to the King ! I can disclose a plot, a wicked 
 conspiracy against him ! " 
 
 I need not say how greatly I was taken aback
 
 222 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 by this public announcement. But I had been too 
 long in the King's employment not to have re- 
 marked how strangely things are brought to 
 light ; and on hearing the man's words, which were 
 followed by a stricken silence, I did not fail to 
 look sharply at the faces of such of those present 
 as it was possible to suspect. I failed, however, to 
 observe any sign of confusion or dismay, or any- 
 thing more particular than such a statement was 
 calculated to produce. Doubting much whether 
 the man was not playing with me, I then ad- 
 dressed him sternly, warning him to beware lest in 
 his anxiety to save his heels by falsely accusing 
 others, he lose his head. For that, if his con- 
 spiracy should prove to be an invention of his 
 own, I should certainly consider it my duty to 
 hang him. 
 
 He still persisted, however, in his story, and even 
 added desperately, "It is a plot, my lord, to as- 
 sassinate you and the King on the same day." 
 
 This statement went home ; for I had good rea- 
 son to know that at that time the king had alien- 
 ated many by his infatuation for Madame de 
 Verneuil ; while I had to reckon with all whom my 
 pursuit of his interests injured in reality or ap- 
 pearance. Forthwith I directed that the prisoners 
 should be led in to the chamber adjoining my 
 private closet, and taking the precaution to call 
 my guards about me, since I knew not what at- 
 tempt despair might not breed, I withdrew myself,
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 223 
 
 making such apologies to the company as the 
 nature of the case permitted. 
 
 I ordered Simon the smith to be first brought 
 before me, and in the presence of Maignan I 
 severely examined him as to his knowledge of any 
 conspiracy. He denied, however, that he had 
 heard of the matters referred to by his brother, 
 and persisted so firmly in the denial that I was 
 inclined to believe him. In the end he was re- 
 moved and Andrew was brought in. The innkeep- 
 er's demeanour was such as I have often observed 
 in intriguers brought suddenly to book. He 
 averred the existence of the conspiracy and that 
 its objects were those which he had stated, and he 
 offered to give up his associates; but he condi- 
 tioned that he should do this in his own way, 
 undertaking to conduct me and one other person 
 but no more, lest the alarm should be given to 
 a place in Paris on the following night, where we 
 could hear the plotters state their plans and de- 
 signs. In this way only, he urged, could proof 
 positive be obtained. 
 
 I was naturally startled by this proposal, and 
 inclined to think it a trap. But more leisurely 
 consideration dispelled my fears. The innkeeper 
 had held no parley with any one save his guards, 
 since his arrest, and could neither have warned his 
 accomplices, nor acquainted them with a design 
 the execution of which depended on his confession 
 to me. In the end, therefore, I accepted his terms
 
 224 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 with a private reservation that I would have 
 help at hand ; and before daybreak next morning 
 I left Rosny, which I had only seen by torchlight, 
 with my prisoner and a select body of Swiss. We 
 entered Paris in the afternoon in three parties, 
 with as little parade as possible, and resorted to 
 the Arsenal, whence, as soon as evening fell, I 
 made my way to the King. 
 
 A return so sudden and unexpected, was as 
 great a surprise to the Court as to Henry, and I 
 was not slow to mark the discomposure which ap- 
 peared on more than one face as the crowd in the 
 chamber fell back for me to approach my master. 
 Still, I was careful to remember that this might 
 arise from other causes than guilt. The King re- 
 ceived me with his wonted affection ; and divining 
 that I must have something important to com- 
 municate, he withdrew with me to the farther end 
 of the chamber, where we were out of earshot of 
 the Court. I related the story to his Majesty, 
 keeping back nothing. 
 
 He shook his head, saying merely, "The fish, to 
 escape the frying-pan, grandmaster, will jump into 
 the fire. And human nature, save in our case, 
 who can trust one another, is akin to the fishy." 
 
 I was touched by the compliment, but not con- 
 vinced. "You have not seen the man, sire," I 
 said. "And I have had that advantage." 
 
 "You believe him?" 
 
 "In part," I answered, with caution. "So far as
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 225 
 
 to be assured that he thinks to save his skin, 
 which he can only save if he be telling the truth. 
 May I beg you, sire," I added, seeing the direction 
 of his glance, "not to look so fixedly at the Duke 
 of Epernon? He grows uneasy." 
 
 "'Conscience makes' you know the rest." 
 
 "Nay, sire, with submission," I replied, "I will 
 answer for him ; if he be not driven by apprehen- 
 sion to do something reckless." 
 
 "I am taking your warranty every day!" my 
 master said, with the grace which came so natural 
 to him. "But now in this matter what would 
 you have me do?" 
 
 "Double your guards, sire, for to-night. That 
 is all. I will answer for the Bastille and the Ar- 
 senal; and holding these, we hold Paris." 
 
 But thereupon the king declared a decision, 
 which I felt it to be my duty to combat with all 
 my influence. He had conceived the idea of being 
 the one to accompany me to the rendezvous. "I 
 am tired of the dice," he complained, "and sick of 
 tennis, at which I know everybody's strength. 
 Madame de Verneuil is at Fontainebleau ; the 
 Queen is unwell. Oh, Sully, I would the old days 
 were back when we had Nerac for our Paris, and 
 knew the saddle better than the armchair." 
 
 "The King belongs to his people." 
 
 " The fowl in the pot?" he replied. " To be sure. 
 But time enough to think of that to-morrow." 
 And do what I would I could not turn him. In 
 
 15
 
 226 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the end, therefore, I took my leave of him as if for 
 the night, and retired leaving him at play with the 
 Duke of Epernon. But an hour later, towards 
 eight o'clock, he made an excuse to withdraw to 
 his closet, and met me outside the eastern gate of 
 the Louvre. He was masked, and had with him 
 only Coquet, the master of the household. I too 
 had taken a mask and was esquired by Maignan, 
 under whose orders were four Swiss whom I had 
 chosen because they spoke no French and who 
 had Andrew in charge. I bade Maignan follow the 
 innkeeper's directions, and we proceeded in two 
 parties through the streets in the direction of the 
 Arsenal, until we reached the mouth of an obscure 
 lane near the gardens of St. Pol, so narrow that 
 the decrepit wooden houses shut out well-nigh all 
 view of the sky. Here the prisoner halted and 
 called upon me to fulfil the terms of my agree- 
 ment. With misgiving I complied. I bade Maig- 
 nan remain with the Swiss at a distance of fifty 
 paces directing him to come up only if I should 
 whistle or give the alarm ; then I myself, with the 
 King and Andrew, proceeded onward in the deep 
 shadow of the houses. I kept my hand on my 
 pistol, which I had previously showed to the 
 prisoner, intimating that on the first sign of 
 treachery I should blow his brains out. However, 
 in spite of this precaution, I felt uncomfortable to 
 the last degree. I blamed myself for allowing the 
 King to expose himself to this unnecessary dan-
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 227 
 
 ger; while the meanness of the quarter, the fetid 
 air, the darkness of the night which was cold and 
 stormy, and the uncertainty of the event lowered 
 my spirits, and made every splash in the kennel, 
 or stumble on the reeking slippery pavements 
 matters over which the King grew merry seem no 
 light troubles to me. We came at length to a 
 house which, as far as we could judge in the dark- 
 ness, seemed to be of rather greater pretensions 
 than its fellows. Here, our guide stopped, and 
 whispered to us to mount some steps to a raised 
 wooden gallery, which intervened between the lane 
 and the doorway. On this, beside the door, a 
 couple of unglazed windows looked forth. The 
 wooden lattice which covered one was sufficiently 
 open to allow us to see a large bare crazy room, 
 lighted by a couple of rushlights. Directing us to 
 place ourselves close to this window, the innkeeper 
 knocked at the door in a peculiar fashion, entered, 
 and appeared at once in the lighted room, of 
 which we had a view. Gazing through the window 
 we were surprised to find that the only person 
 within save Andrew, was a young woman, who, 
 crouching over a smouldering fire, was crooning a 
 lullaby while she attended to a large black pot. 
 
 "Good evening, mistress!" the innkeeper said, 
 advancing to the fire. He masked well his ner- 
 vousness: nevertheless, it was patent to us. 
 
 "Good evening, Master Andrew," she replied, 
 looking up and nodding, but showing no sign of
 
 228 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 surprise at his appearance. " Martin is away, but 
 he may return at any moment." 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Is he still of the same mind?" 
 
 "Quite." 
 
 "Ah! That is so, is it. And what of Sully?" 
 he continued, somewhat hoarsely. "Is he to die 
 also?" 
 
 "They have decided that he must," the girl 
 answered gloomily. 
 
 On that, it may be believed that I listened; 
 while the King by a nudge in my side, seemed to 
 rally me on the destiny so coolly arranged for me. 
 "Martin," the girl continued, before the chill sen. 
 sation had ceased to run down my back, "Martin 
 says it is no good killing the other, unless he 
 goes too they have worked so long together. 
 But it vexes me sadly, Master Andrew," she 
 added, with a certain break in her voice. "Sadly 
 it vexes me. I could not sleep last night for 
 thinking of it, and the risk Martin runs. And I 
 shall sleep less when it is done." 
 
 "Pooh! pooh!" said that rascally innkeeper, 
 and stirred the fire. " Think less about it. Things 
 will grow worse and worse, if they are let live. 
 The King has done harm enough already. And 
 he grows old besides. And to put off a step of 
 this kind is dangerous. If a word got about 'tis 
 ruin."
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 229 
 
 "That is true !" the girl answered, gazing drear- 
 ily at the pot. "And no doubt the sooner the 
 King is put out of the way the better. I do not 
 say a word for him. He must go. But 'tis Sully 
 troubles me. He has done nought, and though 
 he may become as bad as the others he may 
 not. It is that, and the risk Martin runs trouble 
 me. 'Twould be death for him." 
 
 "Ay," said Andrew, cutting her short; "that's 
 so." And they both looked at the fire. 
 
 At this I took the liberty of gently touching the 
 King; but, by a motion of his finger, he en joined 
 silence. We stooped still farther forward so as to 
 better command the room. The girl was rocking 
 herself to and fro in evident anxiety. "If we 
 killed the King," she said, "Martin declares we 
 should be no better off, as long as Sully lives. 
 Both or neither, he says. Both or neither. He 
 grew mad about it. Both or neither ! But I do 
 not know. I cannot bear to think of it. It was 
 a sad day when he brought the Duke here, Master 
 Andrew, and one I fear we shall rue as long as we 
 live!" 
 
 It was now the King's turn to be moved. He 
 grasped my wrist so forcibly that I restrained a 
 cry with difficulty. "The Duke!" he whispered 
 harshly in my ear. "Then they are Epernon's 
 tools ! Where is your warranty now, Rosny?" 
 
 I confess that I trembled. I knew well that the 
 King, particular in courtesies, never forgot to call
 
 230 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 his servants by their titles save in two cases: 
 when he indicated by the error, as once in Mar- 
 shal Biron's affair, his intention to promote or 
 degrade ; or when he was moved to the depths of 
 his nature and fell into an old habit. I did not 
 dare to reply, but I listened greedily for more in- 
 formation. 
 
 "When is it to be done?" the innkeeper asked, 
 sinking his voice, and glancing round as if he 
 would call especial attention to this. 
 
 "That depends upon Master La Biviere," the 
 girl answered. "To-morrow night, I understand, 
 if the physician can have the stuff ready." 
 
 I met the King's eyes, shining hi the fault light, 
 which, issuing from the window, fell upon him. Of 
 all things he hated treachery, and La Kiviere was 
 his first physician. At this very time, as I well 
 knew, he was treating his Majesty for a slight de- 
 rangement, which the King had brought upon 
 himself by his imprudence. This doctor had for- 
 merly been in the employment of the Bouillon 
 family, who had surrendered his services to the 
 King. Neither I nor his Majesty had trusted the 
 Duke of Bouillon for the last year past, so that 
 we were not surprised by this hint that he also 
 was privy to the design. 
 
 Despite our anxiety not to miss a word, an ap- 
 proaching step warned us to leave the window 
 for a moment. More than once before we had 
 done so to escape the notice of a wayfarer passing
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 231 
 
 up or down. But this time I had a difficulty in in- 
 ducing the King to adopt the precaution. Yet it 
 was well that I succeeded, for the person who 
 came towards us did not pass, but, mounting the 
 steps, almost within touch of me, entered the 
 house. 
 
 " The plot thickens," the King muttered. " Who 
 is this?" 
 
 At the moment he asked I was racking my 
 brain to remember. I have a good eye and a 
 trained memory for faces ; and this was one I had 
 seen several times. The features were so familiar 
 that I suspected the man of being a courtier in 
 disguise, for he was shabbily dressed; and I ran 
 over the names of several persons whom I knew 
 to be Epernon's friends or agents. But he was 
 none of these, and, obeying the King's gesture, 
 I bent myself anew to the task of listening. 
 
 The girl looked up at the man's entrance, but 
 did not rise. "You are late, Martin," she said. 
 
 "A little," the new-comer answered. "How do 
 you do, Master Andrew? What news of Aubergen- 
 ville?" And then, not without a trace of affec- 
 tion in his tone, "What, still vexing, my girl?" 
 he added, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. 
 "You have too soft a heart for this business. I 
 always said so." 
 
 She sighed, but made no answer. 
 
 "You have made up your mind to it, I hear," 
 said the innkeeper.
 
 232 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 " That is it. Needs must when the devil drives ! " 
 the man replied jauntily. He had a bold, reck- 
 less, determined air; yet in his face I thought I 
 saw still surviving some traces of a better spirit. 
 
 "The devil in this case was the Duke," quoth 
 Andrew. 
 
 " Ay, curse him ! I would I had cut the dog's 
 liver out before he crossed my threshold," cried 
 the man, with passion. "But there, 'tis done! 
 It is too late to say that now. What has to be 
 done, has to be done." 
 
 "How are you going about it? Poison, the 
 mistress says. And it is safest." 
 
 "Yes, she will have it so ; but, if I had my way," 
 the man continued hardily, "I would out one of 
 these nights and cut the dogs' throats without 
 more." 
 
 "You could never escape, Martin!" the girl 
 cried, clasping her hands and rising in excitement. 
 "It would be hopeless. It would be throwing 
 away your own life. And besides, you promised 
 me." 
 
 "Well, have it so. It is to be done your way, 
 so there is an end," the man answered wearily. 
 "It is more expensive, that is all. Give me my 
 supper. The devil take the King, and Sully too ! 
 He will soon have them ! " 
 
 Master Andrew rose on this, and I took his 
 movement towards the door for a signal to us to 
 retire. He came out presently, after bidding the
 
 THE DIAKY OF A STATESMAN 233 
 
 two good night, and closed the door behind him. 
 He found us standing in the street waiting for 
 him, and forthwith he fell on his knees in the 
 mud and looked up at me, the perspiration stand- 
 ing thick on his white face. "My lord," he cried 
 hoarsely, "I have earned my pardon!" 
 
 "If you go on," I said encouragingly, "as you 
 have begun, have no fear." And I whistled up 
 the Swiss, and bade Maignan go in with them and 
 arrest the man and woman with as little dis- 
 turbance as possible. While this was being done 
 we waited without, keeping a sharp eye upon the 
 informer, whose terror, I noted with suspicion, 
 seemed to be increasing rather than diminishing. 
 He did not try to escape, however, and Maignan 
 presently came to tell us that he had executed 
 the arrest without difficulty or resistance. 
 
 The importance of arriving at the truth before 
 Epernon and the greater conspirators took the 
 alarm was so vividly present to the minds both 
 of the King and myself, that we decided to ex- 
 amine the prisoners in the house, rather than 
 hazard the delay which the removal to a fit place 
 must occasion. Accordingly taking the precaution 
 to post Coquet in the street outside, and to plant 
 a burly Swiss in the doorway, the King and I 
 entered. I removed my mask, as I did so, being 
 aware of the necessity of gaining the prisoners' 
 confidence, but I begged the King to retain his. 
 As I had expected, the man immediately recognized
 
 234 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 me, and fell on his knees. A nearer view con- 
 firmed the notion I had previously entertained 
 that his features were familiar to me, but I could 
 not remember his name. I thought this a good 
 starting point for the examination; and bidding 
 Maignan withdraw, I assumed an air of mildness, 
 and asked the fellow his name. 
 
 ''Martin only, please your lordship," he an- 
 swered; adding "Once I sold you two dogs, sir, 
 for the chase; and to your lady a lapdog called 
 Ninette, no larger than her hand. 'Twas of three 
 pounds weight and no more." 
 
 I remembered the knave then, as a well-known 
 dog dealer, who had been much about the court in 
 the reign of Henry the Third and later : and I saw 
 at once how convenient a tool he might be made 
 since he could be seen in converse with people of 
 all ranks without arousing suspicion. The man's 
 face as he spoke expressed so much fear and 
 surprise that I determined to try what I had often 
 found successful in the case of greater criminals; 
 to squeeze him for a confession, while still ex- 
 cited by his arrest, and before he had had time 
 to consider what his chances of support at the 
 hands of his confederates might be. I charged 
 him therefore to tell the whole truth as he hoped 
 for the King's mercy. He heard me, gazing at me 
 piteously; but his only answer, to my surprise, 
 was that he had nothing to confess. Nothing! 
 nothing, as he hoped for mercy.
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 235 
 
 " Come ! come ! " I replied. " This will avail you 
 nothing. If you do not speak quickly, and to 
 the point, we shall find means to compel you. 
 Who counselled you to attempt his Majesty's 
 life?" 
 
 He stared at me, at that, so stupidly, and cried 
 out with so real an appearance of horror, "How? 
 I attempt the King's life? God forbid!" that I 
 doubted we had before us a more dangerous ras- 
 cal than I had thought ; and I hastened to bring 
 him to the point. 
 
 "What then " I cried, frowning "of the stuff 
 Master La Biviere is to give you? To take the 
 King's life? To-morrow night? Oh, we know 
 something I assure you. Bethink you quickly, 
 and find your tongue if you would have an easy 
 death." 
 
 I expected to see his self-control break down at 
 this proof of our knowledge. But he only stared 
 at me with the same look of bewilderment, and I 
 was about to bid them bring in the informer that 
 I might see the two front to front, when the fe- 
 male prisoner who had hitherto stood beside him, 
 weeping in such distress and terror as were to be 
 expected in a woman of that class, suddenly 
 stopped her tears and lamentations. It occurred 
 to me that she might make a better witness. I 
 turned to her, but when I would have questioned 
 her, she broke on the instant into hysterics, 
 screaming and laughing in the wildest manner.
 
 236 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 From that, I remember, I learned nothing, 
 though it greatly annoyed me. But there was 
 one present who did, and that was the King. 
 He laid his hand on my shoulder, gripping it with 
 a force, that I read as a command to be silent. 
 ''Where," he said to the man, "do you keep the 
 King and Sully and The Duke, my friend?" 
 
 "The King and Sully with his lordship's 
 leave " the man said quickly, but with a fright- 
 ened glance at me "are in the kennels at the back 
 of the house ; but it is not safe to go near them. 
 The King is raving mad, and and the other dog 
 is sickening, I fear. The Duke we had to kill a 
 month back. He brought the disease here, and I 
 have had such losses through him as have nearly 
 ruined me, please your lordship. And if the tale 
 that we have got the madness among the dogs, 
 goes about " 
 
 "Get up! Get up, man!" cried the King. And 
 tearing off his mask he stamped up and down the 
 room, so torn by paroxysms of laughter that he 
 choked himself whenever he attempted to speak. 
 I too now saw the mistake, but I could not at 
 first see it in the same light. Commanding my 
 choler as well as I could, I ordered one of the 
 Swiss to fetch in the innkeeper, but to admit no 
 one else. 
 
 The knave fell on his knees as soon as he saw 
 me, his cheeks shaking like a jelly. "Mercy! 
 mercy ! " was all he could say.
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 237 
 
 "You have dared to play with me?" I whispered. 
 "With me? With me?" 
 
 "You bade me joke!" he sobbed. "You bade 
 me joke!" 
 
 I was about to say that it would be his last 
 joke in this world, for my anger was fully aroused, 
 but the King intervened. 
 
 "Nay," he said, laying his hand on my shoulder, 
 "it has been the most glorious jest. He has joked 
 indeed. I would not have missed it for a king- 
 dom ! Not for a kingdom ! I command you, 
 Sully, to forgive him." 
 
 On which his Majesty strictly charged the three 
 that they should not, on peril of their lives, tell 
 the story ; his regard for me, when he had laughed 
 to satiety, proving strong enough to overcome 
 his love of the diverting. Nor to the best of my 
 belief did they do so; being so shrewdly scared 
 when they recognized the King that I think they 
 never afterwards so much as spoke of the affair 
 to one another. My master further gave me his 
 promise that he would not disclose the matter 
 even to Madame de Verneuil, or the Queen; and 
 upon these representations he induced me freely to 
 forgive the innkeeper. I may seem to have dwelt 
 longer than I should on the amusing details of 
 this conspiracy. But alas ! in twenty-one years 
 of power, I investigated many, and this one only 
 and one other can I regard with satisfaction. 
 The rest were so many warnings and predictions
 
 238 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 of the fate which, despite all my care and fidelity, 
 was in store for the King, my master. 
 
 Such were the reasons, which would have led me 
 had I followed the promptings of my own sagacity 
 to oppose the return of the Jesuits. It remains 
 for me to add that these arguments lost their 
 weight when set in the balance against the safety 
 of my beloved master. To this plea the King him- 
 self for once condescended, and found those who 
 were most strenuous to dissuade him the least 
 able to refute it; since the less a man loved the 
 Jesuits, the more ready he was to allow that the 
 King's life could not be safe while the edict against 
 them remained in force. The support which I 
 gave to the King on this occasion exposed me to 
 the utmost odium of my co-religionists, and was 
 in later times ill-requited by the Order. But an 
 incident which occurred while the matter was still 
 in debate, and which I now for the first time 
 make public, proved the wisdom of my conduct. 
 
 Fontainebleau was at this time in the hands of 
 the builders, and the King had gone to spend his 
 Easter at Chantilly, whither Mademoiselle d'En- 
 tragues had also repaired. During his absence I 
 was seated one morning in my library at the 
 Arsenal, when I was informed that Father Cot- 
 ton, he who at Nancy had presented the petition 
 of the Jesuits, an<J who was now in Paris pursuing
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 239 
 
 that business under a safe conduct, craved leave 
 to wait upon me. I was not surprised, for I had 
 been before this of some service to him. The 
 pages of the Court while loitering outside the 
 Louvre, as their custom is, had insulted the father 
 by shouting after him, " Old Wool I Old Cotton ! " 
 in imitation of the Paris street cry. For this the 
 King at my instigation had caused them to be 
 whipped. I supposed that the Jesuit desired to 
 thank me for this support given in truth out of 
 regard to discipline rather than to him; and I 
 bade them admit him. 
 
 His first words uttered before my secretaries re- 
 tired, indicated that this was his errand ; and for 
 a few moments I listened to such statements, and 
 myself made such answers as became our posi- 
 tions. Then, as he did not go, I conceived the 
 notion that he had come with a further purpose ; 
 and his manner, which seemed strangely lacking 
 in ease, considering that he was a man of skill 
 and address, confirmed the notion. I waited 
 therefore with patience, and presently he named 
 his Majesty with some expressions of devotion to 
 his person. "I trust," said he, "that the air of 
 Fontainebleau agrees with him, M. de Rosny." 
 
 "You mean, good father, of Chantilly?" I an- 
 swered. "He is there." 
 
 "Ay, to be sure!" he rejoined. "I had for- 
 gotten. He is, to be sure, at Chantilly." 
 
 He rose after that to depart, but was delayed
 
 240 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 by the raptures into which he fell on the subject 
 of the fire, which the weather being cold for the 
 time of year, I had caused to be lit. "It burns 
 so brightly," said he, "that it must be of box- 
 wood, M. de Rosny." 
 "Of boxwood?" I exclaimed, astonished. 
 "Ay, is it not?" he asked, looking at me with 
 much simplicity. 
 
 "No!" I made answer rather peevishly. "Who 
 ever heard of people burning boxwood in Paris, 
 father? In the south, perhaps." 
 
 He apologized for his ignorance on the ground 
 of his southern birth, and took his departure, 
 leaving me in doubt as to the real purport of his 
 visit. I was, indeed, more troubled by the uncer- 
 tainty I felt than another less conversant with 
 the methods of the Jesuits might have been; for 
 I knew that it was their habit to drop a word 
 where they dared not speak plainly, and I felt 
 myself put on my mettle to interpret the father's 
 hint. My perplexities were increased by the belief 
 that he would not have intervened in a matter of 
 small moment; hence the conviction grew upon 
 me that while I stood idle before the hearth, the 
 greatest interests might be at stake. 
 
 "Michel," I said at last, addressing the doyen 
 of my secretaries, who chanced to be a Provencal, 
 "have you ever seen a boxwood fire?" 
 
 He replied respectfully, but with some show of 
 surprise, that he had done so, but not often;
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 241 
 
 adding that that wood was so valuable to the 
 turner that few people were extravagant enough 
 to use it for fuel. I assented, and felt the more 
 certain that the Jesuit's remark held a meaning. 
 The only other clue I had consisted in the mis- 
 take he had made as to the King's residence; 
 and this might have dropped from him in inad- 
 vertence. Yet I was inclined to think it inten- 
 tional; and I construed it as implying that the 
 matter concerned the King personally. Which the 
 more alarmed me. 
 
 I passed the day in great perplexity; but to- 
 wards evening, acting on a sudden thought, I sent 
 La Trape, my valet, a trusty fellow, who had 
 saved my life at Villefranche, to the Three Pi- 
 geons, a large inn in the suburbs of Paris, at 
 which travellers from north to south, who do not 
 wish to enter the city, are accustomed to change 
 horses. Acquitting himself of the commission 
 with his usual adroitness, he returned with the 
 news that a traveller of rank had passed through 
 three days before, having sent in advance to order 
 relays there and at Essonnes. La Trape reported 
 that the gentleman had remained in his coach, 
 and that none of the servants of the inn had 
 seen his face. " But he had companions?" I said. 
 My mind had not failed to conceive a certain sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " Only one, your grace. The rest were servants." 
 
 "And that one?" 
 16
 
 242 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "A man in the yard fancied that he recognized 
 M. de la Varenne." 
 
 "Ah!" I said. My agitation was indeed so 
 great that, before giving reins to it, I bade La 
 Trape withdraw. I could scarcely believe that, 
 acquainted as the King was with the plots which 
 the Catholics were daily aiming at his life; and 
 possessing such powerful enemies among the great 
 Protestants as Tremonelle and Bouillon to say 
 nothing of Mademoiselle d'Entragues' half-brother, 
 the Count of Auvergne, who hated him I say, I 
 could hardly believe that with full knowledge of 
 these facts his Majesty had been so fool-hardy as 
 to travel without guards to Fontainebleau. And 
 yet I now felt a certainty that this was the case. 
 The presence of La Varenne, the confidant of his 
 intrigues, while it informed me of the cause of the 
 journey, convinced me that his Majesty had given 
 way to the sole weakness of his nature, and was 
 bent on one of those adventures of gallantry 
 which had been more becoming in the Prince of 
 Beam than in the King of France. Nor was I 
 at a loss to guess the object of his pursuit. It 
 had been lately whispered in the Court that the 
 King had fallen in love with his mistress's youn- 
 ger sister, Susette d'Entragues; whose home at 
 Malesherbes lay but three leagues from Fontaine- 
 bleau, on the edge of the forest. This fact placed 
 the King's imprudence in a stronger light; for 
 he had scarcely in France a more dangerous
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 243 
 
 enemy than her brother, Auvergne, nor had the 
 immense sums which he had settled on the elder 
 sister satisfied the avarice or conciliated the hos- 
 tility of her father. 
 
 I saw that Father Cotton had known more 
 than I had. But his motive in speaking I found 
 less easy to divine. It might be a wish to baulk 
 this new passion through my interference, while 
 he exposed me to the risk of his Majesty's anger. 
 Or it might be the single desire to avert danger 
 from the King's person. At any rate, constant to 
 my rule of preferring, come what might, my mas- 
 ter's interest to his favour, I sent for Maignan, 
 my equerry, and bade him have an equipage 
 ready at dawn. 
 
 At that hour, next morning, attended only by 
 La Trape, with a groom, a page, and four Swiss, 
 I started, giving out that I was bound for Sully 
 to inspect that demesne, which had formerly been 
 the property of my family, and of which the re- 
 fusal had just been offered to me. Under cover of 
 this destination, I was enabled to reach La Ferte 
 Alais unsuspected. There, pretending that the mo- 
 tion of the coach fatigued me, I mounted the led 
 horse, without which I never travelled, and bid- 
 ding La Trape accompany me, I gave orders to 
 the others to follow at their leisure to Pithiviers, 
 where I proposed to stay the night. 
 
 La Ferte Alais, on the borders of the forest, is 
 some five leagues westward of Fontainebleau and
 
 244 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 as far north of Malesherbes, with which it is con- 
 nected by a high-road. Having disclosed my in- 
 tentions to La Trape, I left this road and struck 
 into a woodland path which promised to con- 
 duct us in the right direction. But the luxuriance 
 of the undergrowth, and the huge chaos of grey 
 rocks which cumber that part of the forest, made 
 it difficult to keep for any time in a straight line. 
 After being an hour in the saddle we concluded 
 that we had lost our way, and were confirmed in 
 this, on reaching a clearing. In place of the 
 chateau we saw before us a small house, which 
 La Trape presently recognized as an inn, situate 
 about a league and a half on the Fontainebleau 
 side of Malesherbes. 
 
 We had still ample time to reach the Chateau 
 by nightfall, but before proceeding farther it was 
 necessary that our horses should have rest. Dis- 
 mounting I bade La Trape see the sorrel well 
 baited. The inn was a poor place; but having no 
 choice, I entered it and found myself in a large 
 room better furnished with company than ac- 
 commodation. Three men, who appeared to be 
 of those reckless blades who are commonly to be 
 found in the inns on the outskirts of Paris, and 
 who come not unfrequently to their ends at Mont- 
 faucon, were tippling and playing cards at a table 
 near the door. They looked up on my entrance, 
 but refrained from saluting me, which, as I was 
 plainly dressed, and much travel-stained, was ex-
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 245 
 
 cusable. By the fire, partaking of a coarse meal, 
 sat a fourth man of so singular an appearance 
 that I must needs describe him. He was of great 
 height and extreme leanness, resembling a may- 
 pole rather than a man. His face matched his 
 form, for it was long and meagre, and terminated 
 in a small peaked beard, which like his hair and 
 moustachios was as white as snow. With all this 
 his eyes glowed with something of the fire of 
 youth, and his brown complexion and sinewy 
 hands seemed to indicate robust health. He wore 
 garments which had once been fashionable, but 
 now bore marks of much patching, and I re- 
 marked that the point of his sword, which, as he 
 sat, trailed on the stones behind him, had worn 
 its way through the scabbard. Notwithstanding 
 these signs of poverty he saluted me with the ease 
 of a gentleman, and bade me with some stiffness 
 share his table and the fire. Accordingly I drew 
 up, and called for a bottle of the best wine, be- 
 ing minded to divert myself with him. 
 
 I was little prepared, however, for the turn his 
 conversation took, or the tirade into which he 
 presently broke ; the object of which proved to be 
 no other than myself! I do not know that I 
 have ever cut so whimsical a figure as while I sat 
 and heard my name loaded with reproaches ; but 
 being certain that he did not know me I waited 
 patiently, and soon learned both who he was, and 
 the grievance which he was about to lay before
 
 246 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the King. His name was BoisrosS. He had been 
 the leader in that gallant capture of Fecamp, 
 which took place while I represented his Majesty 
 in Normandy, and his grievance was, that in the 
 face of many promises he had been deprived of 
 the government of the place. " He leads the King 
 by the ear!" he cried loudly, and in an accent 
 which marked him for a Gascon. "That villain 
 of a De Rosny ! But I will shew him up ! I will 
 trounce him ! If the King will not, I will !" And 
 with that he drew the hilt of his long rapier to 
 the front with a gesture so truculent that the 
 three bullies who had stopped to laugh resumed 
 their game in haste. 
 
 Notwithstanding his sentiments, I was pleased 
 to meet with a man of so singular a temper, 
 whom I also knew to be courageous : and I was 
 willing to amuse myself further. "But," I said 
 modestly, "I have had some affairs with M. de 
 Rosny, and I have never found him cheat me." 
 
 "Do not deceive yourself!" he cried, slapping 
 the table. " He is a rascal ! There is no one he 
 will not cheat!" 
 
 "Yet," I ventured to reply, "I have heard that 
 in many respects he is not a bad minister." 
 
 "He is a villain!" he repeated so loudly as to 
 drown what I would have added. "A villain, 
 sir, a villain! Do not tell me otherwise! But 
 rest assured ! I will make the King see him in 
 his true colours ! Rest content, sir ! I will trounce
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 247 
 
 him ! He has to do with Armand de Bois- 
 rose!" 
 
 Seeing that he was not open to argument for 
 being opposed he grew warm I asked him by 
 what channel he intended to approach the King, 
 and learned that here he felt a difficulty, since he 
 had neither a Mend at Court, nor money to buy 
 one. Certain that the narrative of our rencontre 
 and its sequel would amuse his Majesty, who 
 loved a jest, I advised Boisrose to go boldly to 
 the King, and speak to him ; which, thanking me 
 as profusely as he had before reproached me, he 
 avowed he would do. With that I rose. 
 
 At the last moment, and as I was parting from 
 him, it occurred to me to try upon him the shib- 
 boleth which in Father Cotton's mouth had so 
 mystified me. "This fire burns brightly," I said, 
 kicking the logs together with my riding-boot. 
 "It must be of boxwood." 
 
 "Of what, sir?" he asked politely. 
 
 "Of boxwood ! Why not?" I replied in a louder 
 tone. 
 
 " My certes ! " he answ r ered, staring at me. " They 
 do not burn boxwood in this country. Those are 
 larch trimmings, as all the world knows, neither 
 more nor less!" 
 
 While he wondered at my ignorance, I was 
 pleased to discover his; and so far I had lost 
 my pains. But it did not escape me that the 
 three gamesters had ceased to play, and were lis-
 
 248 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 tening to our conversation. Moreover as I moved 
 to the door they followed me with their eyes: 
 and when I turned after riding a hundred yards 
 I found that they had come to the door and were 
 gaping after us. 
 
 This did not hinder me remarking that a hound 
 which had been lying before the fire had come 
 forth with us, and was now running in front, now 
 gambolling about the horses' legs. I supposed 
 that when it had accompanied us a certain way 
 it would return; but it persisted, and presently 
 where the road forked I had occasion to notice 
 its movements; for choosing one of the paths it 
 stood in the mouth of it, wagging its tail and 
 inviting us to take that road : and this it did 
 so pertinaciously and cheerfully that though the 
 directions we had received at the inn would have 
 led us to prefer the other track, we followed the 
 dog as the more trustworthy guide. 
 
 We had gone from this point about four hun- 
 dred paces forward, when La Trape showed me 
 that the path was growing narrow, and betrayed 
 few signs of being used. It seemed certain though 
 the dog still ran confidently ahead that we were 
 again astray ; and I was about to draw rein and 
 return w r hen I saw that the undergrowth on the 
 right of the path had assumed the character of a 
 thick hedge of box a shrub common only in a 
 few parts of the forest. Though less prone than 
 most men to put faith in omens, I accepted this ;
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 249 
 
 and, notwithstanding that it wanted but an hour 
 of sunset, I rode on, remarking that with each 
 turn in the woodland path, the scrub on my left 
 also gave place more and more to the sturdy tree 
 which had been in my mind all day. Finally, we 
 found ourselves passing through an alley of box 
 which no long time before had been clipped and 
 dressed. A final turn brought us into a cul de 
 sac; and there we were, in a kind of small arbour 
 carpeted with turf, and so perfectly hedged in as 
 to afford no exit save by the entrance. Here the 
 dog placidly stood and wagged its tail, looking 
 up at us. 
 
 I must confess that this termination of the 
 adventure seemed so surprising, and the evening 
 light shining on the level walls of green about us 
 was so full of a solemn quiet, that I was not 
 surprised to hear La Trape mutter a prayer. For 
 my part, assured that something more than 
 chance had brought me hither, I dismounted and 
 spoke encouragement to the hound. But it only 
 leapt upon me. Then I walked round the tiny en- 
 closure, and presently I discovered, close to the 
 hedge, three small patches, where the grass was 
 slightly beaten or trodden down. A second glance 
 told me more ; I saw that at these places the hedge 
 about three feet from the ground was hacked 
 and hollowed. I stooped, until my eyes were level 
 with the hole thus made, and discovered that I 
 was looking through a funnel skilfully cut in
 
 250 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the wall of box. At my end the opening was 
 rather larger than a man's face; at the other 
 end not as large as the palm of the hand. The 
 funnel rose gradually, so that I took the farther 
 extremity of it to be about seven feet from the 
 ground, and here it disclosed a feather dangling 
 on a spray. From the light falling strongly on 
 this, I judged it to be not in the hedge, but a 
 pace or two from it on the hither side of another 
 fence of box. On examining the remaining loop- 
 holes, I discerned that they bore upon the same 
 feather. 
 
 My own mind was at once made up, but I bade 
 my valet go through the same investigation, and 
 then asked him whether he had ever seen an am- 
 bush of this kind laid for game. He replied that 
 the shot would pass over the tallest stag, or 
 aught but a man on horseback; and fortified by 
 this, I mounted without saying more, and we re- 
 traced our steps. The hound, which had doubtless 
 the habit, as some dogs have, of accompanying the 
 first person who held out the prospect of a walk, 
 presently left us, and without further adventure 
 we reached the Chateau a little after sunset. 
 
 I expected to be received by the King with some 
 displeasure, but it chanced that a catarrh had 
 kept him within doors all day; and unable to 
 hunt or visit his new flame, he had been at leis- 
 ure, in this palace without a court, to consider 
 the imprudence he was committing. He received
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 251 
 
 me therefore with the laugh of a schoolboy de- 
 tected in a petty fault, and as I hastened to re- 
 late to him some of the things which M. de Bois- 
 rose had said of the Baron de Rosny, I soon had 
 the gratification of perceiving that my presence 
 was not taken amiss. His Majesty gave orders 
 that bedding should be furnished for my pavilion, 
 and that his household should wait on me, and 
 himself sent me from his table a couple of chickens 
 and a fine melon, bidding me to come to him 
 when I had supped. 
 
 I did so, and found him alone in his closet 
 awaiting me with impatience; he had already 
 divined that I had not made this journey merely 
 to reproach him. Before informing him, however, 
 of my suspicions, I craved leave to ask him one 
 or two questions, and in particular whether he 
 had been in the habit of going to Malesherbes 
 daily. 
 
 "Daily," he admitted with a grimace. "What 
 more, Father Confessor?" 
 
 "By what road, sire?" 
 
 "I have hunted mornings, and visited Males- 
 herbes at midday. I have returned as a rule by 
 the bridle-path, which passes the Rock of the 
 Serpents." 
 
 "Patience, sire, one moment," I said. "Does 
 that path run anywhere through a plantation of 
 box?" 
 
 "It does," he answered, without hesitation.
 
 252 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "About half a mile on this side of the rock, it 
 skirts Queen Catherine's maze." 
 
 Thereon I told the King without reserve all 
 that had happened. He listened with the air of 
 seeming carelessness which he always assumed 
 when plots against his life were under discussion ; 
 but at the end he embraced me again with tears 
 in his eyes. "France is beholden to you!" he 
 said. "I have never had, nor shall have, such 
 another servant as you, Rosny ! The three ruf- 
 fians at the inn," he continued, "are, of course, 
 the tools, and the hound has been in the habit of 
 accompanying them to the spot. Yesterday, I re- 
 member, I walked by that place with the bridle on 
 my arm." 
 
 "By a special providence, sire," I said gravely. 
 
 "It is true," he answered, crossing himself, a 
 thing I had never yet known him do in private. 
 "But, now, who is the craftsman who has con- 
 trived this pretty plot? Tell me that, Grand 
 Master." 
 
 On this point, however, though I had my sus- 
 picions, I begged leave to be excused until I had 
 slept upon it. "Heaven forbid," I said, "that I 
 should expose any man to your Majesty's resent- 
 ment without cause. The wrath of kings is the 
 forerunner of death." 
 
 "I have not heard," the King answered dryly, 
 "that the Duke of Bouillon has called in a leech 
 
 yet."
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 253 
 
 Before retiring, I learned that his Majesty had 
 with him a score of light horse, whom La Yarenne 
 had requisitioned from Melun; and that some of 
 these had each day awaited him at Malesherbes 
 and ridden home behind him. Further, that 
 Henry had been in the habit of wearing, when 
 riding back in the evening, a purple cloak over his 
 hunting-suit, a fact well known, I felt sure, to 
 the assassins, who, unseen and in perfect safety, 
 could fire at the exact moment when the cloak 
 obscured the feather, and could then make their 
 escape, secured by the stout wall of box from 
 immediate pursuit. 
 
 I slept ill, and was aroused early by La Yarenne 
 coming to my bedside, and bidding me hasten to 
 the King. I did so, and found him already in 
 his boots and walking on the terrace with Coquet, 
 his Master of the Household, Yitry, La Yarenne, 
 and a gentleman unknown to me. On seeing me 
 he dismissed them, and while I was still a great 
 way off, called out, chiding me for my laziness : 
 then taking me by the hand hi the most obliging 
 manner, he made me walk up and down with him, 
 while he told me what further thoughts he had of 
 this affair; and hiding nothing from me even as 
 he bade me speak to him whatever I thought 
 without reserve, he required to know whether I 
 suspected that the Entragues family were cogni- 
 zant of this. 
 
 "I cannot say, sire," I answered prudently.
 
 254 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "But you suspect?" 
 
 "In your Majesty's cause I suspect all," I re- 
 plied. 
 
 He sighed, and seeing that my eyes wandered to 
 the group of gentlemen who had betaken them- 
 selves to the terrace steps, and were thence watch- 
 ing us, he asked me if I would answer for them. 
 "For Vitry, who sleeps at my feet when I lie 
 alone? For Coquet?" 
 
 "For three of them, I will, sire," I answered 
 firmly. "The fourth I do not know." 
 
 "He is Auvergne's half-brother." 
 
 "M. Louis d'Entragues?" I muttered. "Lately 
 returned, I think, from service in Savoy? I do 
 not know him, sire. To-morrow I may be able 
 to answer for him." 
 
 "And to-day? What am I to do to-day?" 
 
 I begged him to act as he had done each day 
 since his arrival at Fontainebleau, to hunt in the 
 morning, to take his midday meal at Malesherbes, 
 to talk to all as if he had no suspicion : only on 
 his return to take any road save that which 
 passed the Rock of the Serpents. 
 
 The King turning to rejoin the others, I found 
 that their attention was no longer directed to us, 
 but to a singular figure which had made its ap- 
 pearance on the skirts of the group, and had 
 already thrown three out of the four courtiers into 
 a fit of laughter. The fourth, M. d'Entragues, did 
 not seem to be equally diverted with the stranger's
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 255 
 
 appearance ; nor did I fail to notice, being at the 
 moment quick to perceive the slightest point of 
 his conduct, that while the others were nudging 
 one another, his countenance, darkened by an 
 Italian sun, gloomed on the new-comer with an 
 aspect of menace. On his side M. de Boisrose 
 for he it was, the grotesque fashion of his dress 
 more conspicuous than ever stood eyeing the 
 group with a mixture of awkwardness and resent- 
 ment ; until made aware of his Majesty's approach 
 and of my presence in intimate converse with the 
 King he stepped joyfully forward, a look of relief 
 displacing all others on his countenance. "Ha! 
 well met ! " quoth the King in my ear. "It is your 
 friend of yesterday. Now we shall have sport. 
 And 'twill cheer us. We need it." And he pinched 
 my arm. 
 
 As the old soldier approached with many low 
 bows, the King spoke to him graciously, and 
 bade him say what he sought. It happened then 
 as I had expected. Boisrose, after telling the King 
 his name, turned to me and humbly begged that 
 I would explain his complaint ; which I consented 
 to do, and did as follows: "This, sire," I said 
 gravely, "is an old and brave soldier; who for- 
 merly served your Majesty to good purpose in 
 Normandy, but has been cheated out of the rec- 
 ompense which he there earned by the trickery 
 and chicanery of one of your Majesty's counsel- 
 lors, the Baron de Rosny."
 
 256 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 I could not continue, for the courtiers, on hear- 
 ing this from my mouth, and on discovering that 
 the stranger's odd appearance was but a prelude 
 to the real diversion, could not restrain their 
 laughter. The King, concealing his own amuse, 
 ment, turned to them with an angry air and bade 
 them be silent; and the Gascon, encouraged by 
 this and by the bold manner in which I had 
 stated his grievance, scowled at them famously. 
 "He alleges, sire," I continued, with the same 
 gravity, "that the Baron de Eosny, after promis- 
 ing him the government of Fecamp, bestowed it 
 on another, being bribed to do so, and has been 
 guilty of many base acts which make him un- 
 worthy of your Majesty's confidence. That, I 
 think, is your complaint, M. de Boisrose?" I con- 
 cluded, turning to the soldier; whom my deep 
 seriousness so misled that he took up the story, 
 and pouring out his wrongs did not fail to 
 threaten to trounce me, or to add with much 
 fervour that I was a villain ! 
 
 He might have said more, but the courtiers, 
 perceiving that the King broke at last into a 
 smile, lost all control over themselves, and giv- 
 ing vent to loud peals of laughter, clasped one 
 another by the shoulders and reeled to and fro in 
 an ecstasy of enjoyment. The King gave way 
 also and laughed heartily, clapping me again and 
 again on the back, so that in fine there were only 
 two serious faces to be seen, that of the poor
 
 Boisrose, who took all for lunatics, and my own. 
 For my part I began to think that perhaps the 
 jest had been carried far enough. 
 
 My master presently saw this, and collecting 
 himself, turned to the amazed Gascon. "Your 
 complaint is one," he said, "which should not 
 be lightly made. Do you know the Baron de 
 Kosny?" 
 
 Boisrose, more and more out of countenance, 
 said he did not. 
 
 "Then," said the King, "I will give you an 
 opportunity of becoming acquainted with him. 
 I shall refer your complaint to him, and he will 
 decide upon it. More ! " he continued, raising his 
 hand for silence as Boisrose, starting forward, 
 would have appealed to him, "I will introduce 
 you to him now. This is the Baron de Kosny." 
 
 The old soldier glared at me for a moment with 
 starting eye-balls, and a dreadful despair seemed 
 to settle on his face. He threw himself on his 
 knees before the King. "Then, sire," said he in a 
 heartrending voice, "am I ruined? My six chil- 
 dren must starve, and my young wife die by the 
 roadside!" 
 
 "That," answered the King, gravely, "must be 
 for the Baron de Kosny to decide. I leave you to 
 your audience." 
 
 He made a sign to the others, and, followed by 
 them, walked slowly along the terrace, the while 
 Boisrose, who had risen to his feet, stood looking 
 17
 
 258 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 after him like one demented, muttering in a voice 
 that went to my heart that it was a cruel jest, 
 and that he had bled for the King, and the King 
 made sport of him. 
 
 Presently I touched him on the arm. "Come, 
 have you nothing to say to me, M. de Bois- 
 rose?" I asked quietly. "You are a brave soldier 
 and have done France service: why then need 
 you fear? The Baron de Eosny is one man, the 
 King's minister is another. It is the latter who 
 speaks to you now. The office of Lieutenant 
 Governor of Angouleme is vacant. It is worth 
 twelve thousand livres by the year. I appoint 
 you to it." 
 
 He murmured with a white face that I mocked 
 him and that he was going mad; so that it was 
 long before I could persuade him that I was in 
 earnest. When I at last succeeded, his gratitude 
 knew no bounds, and he thanked me again and 
 again with the tears running down his face. 
 "What I have done for you," I said modestly, "is 
 the reward of your bravery. I ask only that you 
 will not another time think that they who rule 
 kingdoms are as those gay popinjays yonder. 
 Whom the King, believe me, holds at their due 
 value." 
 
 In a transport of delight he reiterated his offers 
 of service, and feeling sure that I had gained him 
 completely I asked him on a sudden where he had 
 seen Louis d'Entragues before. In two words the
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 259 
 
 truth came out. He had seen him once only, on 
 the previous day at the forest inn; the courtier 
 had halted at the door and spoken with the three 
 bullies, whom I had remarked there. I was not 
 surprised, nay I had expected this, D'Entragues' 
 near kinship to the Count of Auvergne and the 
 mingled feelings with which I knew that the family 
 regarded Henry preparing me to imagine treach- 
 ery. Moreover, the nature of the ambush was 
 proof that its author resided in the neighbour- 
 hood and was intimately acquainted with the for- 
 est paths. I should have carried this informa- 
 tion at once to my master ; but I learned that he 
 had already started, and thus baffled and believ- 
 ing that his affection for Mademoiselle d'Entra- 
 gues, if not for her sister, would lead him to act 
 with undue leniency, I conceived a plan of my own. 
 Two hours after noon, therefore, I set out, as if 
 for a ride, attended by La Trape only; but at 
 some distance from the palace we were joined by 
 Boisrose, whom I had bidden to be at that point 
 well armed and mounted. Thus reinforced for 
 the Gascon was still strong, and in courage a very 
 Crillon, I proceeded to Malesherbes by a circuitous 
 route which brought me within sight of the gates 
 about the middle of the afternoon. I then halted 
 under cover of a little wood of chestnuts, and 
 waited until I saw the King, attended by several 
 ladies and gentlemen, and followed by eight troop- 
 ers, issue from the chateau. His Majesty was
 
 260 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 walking, his horse being led behind him; and 
 seeing this I rode out and approached the party 
 as if I had that moment arrived to meet the 
 King. 
 
 It would very ill become me to make idle re- 
 flections on the hollowness of Court life : withal, 
 seldom have I known it better exemplified than in 
 the scene then displayed before me. The sun was 
 low, but its warm beams falling aslant on the gay 
 group at the gates and on the flowered terraces 
 and grey walls behind them seemed to present a 
 picture at once peaceful and joyous. Yet I knew 
 that treachery and death were lurking in the 
 midst even as between the parterres and the walls 
 lay the dark sluggish moat; and it was only by 
 an effort that, as I rode up, I could make answer 
 to the thousand obliging things with which I was 
 greeted and of which not the least polite were 
 said by M. d'Entragues and his son. I took 
 pains to observe Mademoiselle Susette, a beauti- 
 ful girl still in her teens, but noways comparable 
 as it seemed to me, in expression and vivacity 
 to her famous sister. She was walking beside the 
 King, her hands full of flowers, and her face 
 flushed with shy excitement. I came, with little 
 thought, to the conclusion that she, at least, 
 knew nothing of what was intended by her family ; 
 who, having made the one sister the means of 
 gratifying their avarice, were now baiting the 
 trap of their vengeance with the other. Having
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 261 
 
 obtained what they needed, they were ashamed of 
 the means by which they had obtained it : and 
 would fain avenge their honour, while holding to 
 that they had got by the sale of it. 
 
 Henry parted from the maid at length, and 
 mounted his horse amid a ripple of laughter and 
 compliments, D'Entragues holding the stirrup, 
 and his son the cloak. I observed that the latter, 
 as I had expected, was prepared to accompany us, 
 which rendered my plan more feasible. Our road 
 lay for a league in the direction of the Rock of the 
 Serpents, the track which passed the latter and 
 was a trifle shorter presently diverging from it. 
 For some distance we rode along in easy talk, but 
 on approaching the point of separation, the King 
 looked at me with a whimsical air, as though he 
 would lay on me the burden of finding an excuse 
 for avoiding the shorter way. I had foreseen this 
 and looked round to ascertain the positions of 
 our company. I found that La Varenne and 
 D'Entragues were close behind us, while the troop- 
 ers with La Trape and Boisrose were a hundred 
 paces farther to the rear, and Vitry and Coquet 
 had dropped out of sight. This being so, I sud- 
 denly reined in my horse so as to back it into 
 that of D'Entragues, and then wheeled round on 
 the latter, taking care to be between him and the 
 King. "M. Louis d'Entragues," I said, dropping 
 the mask and addressing him in a low voice but 
 with the scorn which I felt and which he deserved.
 
 262 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Your plot is known! If you would save your 
 life confess to his Majesty here and now all you 
 know, and throw yourself on his mercy!" 
 
 I confess that I had failed to take into account 
 the pitch to which his nerves would be strung at 
 such a time, and had expected to produce a 
 greater effect than followed my words. His hand 
 went indeed to his breast, but it was hard to say 
 which seemed the more astounded, La Varenne or 
 he. And the manner in which he flung back my 
 accusation, lacked neither vigour nor the sem- 
 blance of innocence. While Henry stood puzzled, 
 and not a little put out, La Varenne was appalled. 
 I saw this, that I had gone too far, or not far 
 enough, and at once calling up unto my face and 
 form all the sternness in my power I bade the 
 traitor remain where he was. Then turning to 
 his Majesty I craved leave to speak to him apart. 
 
 He hesitated, looking from me to D'Entragues 
 with an air of displeasure which embraced us 
 both, but in the end without permitting M. Louis 
 to speak he complied, and going aside with me 
 bade me with coldness speak out. As soon as I 
 had repeated to him Boisrose's words, his face 
 underwent a change for he too had remarked the 
 discomfiture which the latter's appearance had 
 caused D'Entragues in the morning. "The vil- 
 lain!" he said. "I do not now think you pre- 
 cipitate ! Arrest him, but do him no harm ! " 
 
 "If he resist, sire?" I asked.
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 263 
 
 "He will not," the King answered. " And in no 
 case harm him! You understand me?" 
 
 I bowed, having my own thoughts on the sub- 
 ject, and the King without looking again at 
 D'Entragues rode quickly away. M. Louis tried 
 to follow and cried after him, but I thrust my 
 horse in the way, and bade him consider himself 
 a prisoner. At the same time I requested La 
 Varenne, with Vitry and Coquet, who had come 
 up and were looking on like men thunderstruck, 
 to take four of the guards and follow the King. 
 
 "Then, sir, what do you intend to do with me?" 
 D'Entragues asked. The defiant air with which he 
 looked from me to the men who remained barely 
 disguised his apprehensions. 
 
 "That depends, M. Louis," I replied, recurring 
 to my usual tone of politeness, "on your an- 
 swers to three questions." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "Ask them," he 
 said. 
 
 "Do you deny that you have laid an ambush 
 for the King in the road which passes the Rock of 
 the Serpents?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 "Or that you were yesterday at an inn near 
 here in converse with three men?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 "Do you deny that there is such an ambush 
 laid?" 
 
 "At least I know naught of it!" he repeated
 
 264 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 with scorn. "'Tis an old wife's story. I would 
 stake my life on it." 
 
 "Enough," I answered slowly. "You have said 
 you would stake your life on it. You shall. The 
 evening grows cold, and, as you are my prisoner, 
 I must have a care of you. Kindly put on this 
 cloak, and precede me, M. d'Entragues. We return 
 to Fontainebleau by the Rock of the Serpents." 
 
 His eyes met mine; he read my thoughts, and 
 for a second held his breath. A cold shadow fell 
 upon his sallow face, and then for an instant I 
 thought that he would resist. But the stern coun- 
 tenances of La Trape and Boisrose, who had 
 ridden up to his rein and stood awaiting his 
 answer with their swords drawn, determined him. 
 With a forced and mirthless laugh he took the 
 cloak. "It is new, I hope," he said, as he threw 
 it over his shoulders. 
 
 It was not, and I apologized, adding, however, 
 that no one but the King had worn it. On this 
 he settled it about him; and having heard me 
 strictly charge the two guards, who followed with 
 their arquebuses ready, to fire on him if he tried 
 to escape, he turned his horse's head into the 
 path and rode slowly along it, while we, in double 
 file, followed a few paces behind him. 
 
 The sun had set, and such light as remained fell 
 cold between the trees. The green of the sward 
 had that pale look it puts on with the last rays, 
 or with the dawning. The crackling of a stick
 
 THE DIAKY OF A STATESMAN 265 
 
 under a horse's hoof, or the ring of a spur against 
 a scabbard, were the only sounds which broke the 
 stillness of the wood as we proceeded. We had 
 gone some way when M. Louis halted, and, turn- 
 ing hi his saddle, called to me. "M. de Rosny," 
 he said the light had so far failed that I could 
 scarcely see his face, "I have a meeting with the 
 Vicomte de Matigny on Saturday about a little 
 matter of a lady's glove. Should anything pre- 
 vent my appearance " 
 
 "I will see that a proper explanation is given," 
 I answered. 
 
 "Or, if M. d'Entragues will permit me," ex- 
 claimed the Gascon, who was riding by my side, 
 " I, M. de Boisrose of St. Palais, will appear in his 
 place and make the Viscount de Caylus swallow 
 the glove." 
 
 "Sir," said M. Louis, with politeness, and in a 
 steady tone, "you are a gentleman. I am obliged 
 to you." 
 
 He waved his hand to me with a gesture which 
 I long remembered, and, giving his horse the rein, 
 he went forward along the path at a brisk walk. 
 We followed, and I had just remarked that a plant 
 of box was beginning here and there to take the 
 place of the usual undergrowth when a sheet of 
 flame leapt out through the dusk to meet us, and 
 our horses reared wildly. For an instant we were 
 in confusion ; then I saw that our leader, M. Louis, 
 had fallen headlong from his saddle, and lay on
 
 266 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the sward without word or cry. My men would 
 have sprung forward before the noise of the report 
 had died away, and, having good horses, might 
 possibly have overtaken one of the assassins ; but 
 I restrained them. Enough had been done. When 
 La Trape dismounted and raised the fallen man 
 the latter was dead, his breast riddled by a dozen 
 slugs. 
 
 Such were the circumstances, now for the first 
 time made public, which attended the discovery of 
 this, the least known, yet one of the most danger- 
 ous of the many plots which were directed against 
 the life of my master. The course which I adopted 
 may be blamed by some, but it is enough for me 
 that, after the lapse of years, it is approved by 
 my conscience and by the course of events. For 
 it was ever the misfortune of that great king to 
 treat those with leniency whom no indulgence 
 could win; and I bear with me to this day the 
 bitter assurance that, had the fate which overtook 
 Louis d'Entragues in the wood between Males- 
 herbes and Fontainebleau embraced the whole of 
 that family, the blow which, ten years later, went 
 to the heart of France would not have been 
 
 struck. 
 
 * * # * # 
 
 The slight indisposition from which the Queen 
 suffered in the spring of 1602, and which was 
 occasioned by a cold caught during her lying-in, 
 by diverting the King's attention from state mat-
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 267 
 
 ters, had the effect of doubling the burden cast on 
 me. Though the main threads of M. de Biron's 
 conspiracy were in our hands as early as the 
 month of November of the preceding year, and 
 steps had been taken to sound the chief associates 
 by summoning them to court, an interval neces- 
 sarily foUowed during which we had all to fear; 
 and this not only from the despair of the guilty, 
 but from the timidity of the innocent, who in a 
 court filled with cabals and rumours of intrigues 
 might see no way to clear themselves. Even the 
 shows and interludes which followed the Dauphin's 
 birth, and made that Christmas remarkable, 
 served only to amuse the idle ; they could not dis- 
 perse the cloud which hung over the Louvre nor 
 divert those who on the one side or the other had 
 aught to fear. 
 
 In connection with this period of suspense I re- 
 call an episode worthy, I think, by reason of its 
 oddity, to be set down here; where it may serve 
 for a preface to those more serious events attend- 
 ing the trial and execution of M. de Biron, which 
 I shall have to relate. 
 
 I had occasion, about the end of the month of 
 January, to see M. du Hallot. The weather was 
 cold, and partly for that reason, partly out of a 
 desire to keep my visit, which had to do with the 
 Biron disclosures, from the general eye, I chose to 
 go on foot. For the same reason I took with me 
 only two servants and a confidential page, the son
 
 268 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 of my friend Arnaud. M. du Hallot, who lived at 
 this time in a house in the Faubourg St. Germain, 
 not far from the College of France, detained me 
 long, and when I rose to leave insisted that I 
 should take his coach, as snow had begun to fall, 
 and lay an inch deep in the streets. At first I was 
 unwilling to do this, but reflecting that such small 
 services are highly valued by those who render 
 them, and attach men more surely than the great- 
 est bribes, I yielded, and, taking my place with 
 some becoming expressions, bade young Arnaud 
 find his way home on foot. 
 
 The coach had nearly reached the south end of 
 the Pont au Change, when a number of youths 
 ran past me, pelting one another with snowballs, 
 and shouting so lustily that I was at a loss which 
 to admire more, the silence of their feet or the 
 loudness of their voices. Aware that lads of that 
 age are no respecters of persons, I was not sur- 
 prised to see two or three of them rush on to the 
 bridge before us, and even continue their Parthian 
 warfare under the feet of the horses. The result, 
 however, was that the latter took fright at that 
 part of the bridge where the houses encroach most 
 on the roadway ; and but for the care of the run- 
 ning footman, who hastened to their heads, might 
 have done some harm either to the coach or the 
 passers-by. 
 
 As it was, we were brought to a stop while one 
 of the wheels was extricated from the kennel, in
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 269 
 
 which it had become wedged. Smiling to think 
 what the King who, strangely warned by Provi- 
 dence, was throughout his life timid in a coach- 
 would have said to this, I went to open the cur- 
 tains, and had effected this to some extent, when 
 one of a crowd of idlers who stood on the raised 
 pavement deliberately lifted up his arm and flung 
 a snowball at me. 
 
 The missile flew wide of its mark by an inch or 
 two only. That I was amazed at such audacity 
 goes without saying; but doubting of what it 
 might be the preclude for the breakdown of the 
 coach in that narrow place, the haunt of ruffiers 
 and vagrants of every kind, might be part of a 
 concerted plan I fell back into my place. The 
 coach, as it happened, moved on at that moment 
 with a jerk ; and before I had digested the matter, 
 or had time to mark the demeanour of the crowd, 
 we were clear of the bridge, and rolling under the 
 Chatelet. 
 
 A smaller man might have stooped to punish, 
 and to cook a sprat have passed all Paris through 
 the net. But remembering the days when I myself 
 attended the College of Burgundy, I set the freak 
 to the credit of some young student, and, shrug- 
 ging my shoulders, dismissed it from my mind. 
 An instant later, however, observing that the 
 fragments of the snowball were melting on the 
 seat and wetting the leather, I raised my hand to 
 brush them away. In doing so I discovered, to
 
 270 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 my surprise, a piece of paper lying among the 
 debris. 
 
 "Ho, ho!" said I to myself. "A strange snow- 
 ball this ! I have heard that the apprentices put 
 stones in theirs. But paper! Let me see what 
 this means." 
 
 The morsel, though moistened by the snow, 
 remained intact. Unfolding it with care for al- 
 ready I began to discern that here was something 
 out of the commonI found written on the inner 
 side, in a clerkly hand, the words, "Beware of 
 Nicholas!" 
 
 It will be remembered that Simon Nicholas was 
 at this time secretary to the King, and so high in 
 his favour as to be admitted to the knowledge 
 of all but his most private affairs. Gay, and of 
 a jovial wit, he was able to commend himself to 
 Henry by amusing him; while his years, for he 
 was over sixty, seemed warranty for his discre- 
 tion, and at the same time gave younger sinners 
 a feeling of worth, since they might repent and he 
 had not done so. Often in contact with him, I 
 had always found him equal to his duties, and 
 though too fond of the table, and of the good 
 things of this life, neither given to blabbing nor 
 boasting. In a word, one for whom I had more 
 liking than respect. 
 
 A man in his position possesses opportunities for 
 evil so stupendous that as I read the warning I 
 sat aghast. His office gave him at all times that
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 271 
 
 ready access to the King's person which is the aim 
 of conspirators against the lives of sovereigns; 
 and short of the supreme treachery he was master 
 of secrets which Biron's associates would give 
 much to gain. When I add that I knew Nicholas 
 to be a man of extravagant habits and careless 
 life, and one who, if rumour did not wrong him, 
 had lost much in that rearrangement of the 
 finances which I had lately effected, it will be seen 
 that those words, "Beware of Nicholas," were 
 calculated to provoke me to the most profound 
 thought. 
 
 Of the person who had conveyed the missive 
 to my hands I had unfortunately seen nothing; 
 though I believed him to be a man, and young. 
 But the circumstances, which seemed to indicate 
 the need of secrecy, gave me a hint as to my con- 
 duct. Accordingly, I smoothed my brow, and on 
 the coach stopping at the Arsenal, I descended 
 with my usual face of preoccupation. 
 
 At the foot of the staircase my maitre-d' hotel 
 met me. 
 
 "M. Nicholas, the King's secretary, is here," he 
 said. "He has been waiting your return an hour 
 and more, my lord." 
 
 "Lay another cover," I answered, repressing the 
 surprise I could not but feel at a visit so strangely 
 li propos. " Doubtless he has come to dine with 
 me." 
 
 Staying only to remoye my cloak, I went up-
 
 272 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 stairs with an air as easy as possible, and, making 
 my visitor some apologies for the inconvenience I 
 had caused him, I insisted he should sit down 
 with me. This he was not loth to do ; though, as 
 presently appeared, his errand was only to submit 
 to me a paper connected with the new tax of a 
 penny in the shilling, which it was his duty to lay 
 before me. 
 
 I scolded him for the long period which had 
 elapsed since his last visit, and succeeded so well 
 in setting him at his ease that he presently began 
 to rally me on my lack of appetite; for I could 
 touch nothing but a little game and a glass of 
 water. Excusing myself as well as I could, I en- 
 couraged him to continue the attack; and cer- 
 tainly, if appetite waits on a good conscience, I 
 had abundant evidence in his behalf. He grew 
 merry and talkative, and, telling me some free 
 tales, bore himself so naturally that I had begun 
 to deem my suspicions baseless, when a chance 
 word gave me new grounds for entertaining them. 
 
 I was on the subject of my morning's employ- 
 ment. Knowing how easily confidence begets con- 
 fidence, and that in his position the matter could 
 not be long kept from him, I told him as a secret 
 where I had been. 
 
 "I do not wish all the world to know, my 
 friend," I said. " But you are a discreet man, and 
 it will go no farther. I am just from Du Ballot's." 
 
 He dropped his napkin and stooped to pick it up
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 273 
 
 with a gesture so hasty that it caught my atten- 
 tion and led me to watch him. More, although 
 my words seemed to call for an answer, he did not 
 speak until he had taken a deep draught of wine ; 
 and then he said only, "Indeed!" in a tone of 
 such indifference as might at another time have 
 deceived me, but now was patently assumed. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, affecting to be engaged with 
 my plate: we were eating nuts. "Doubtless you 
 will be able to guess on what subject." 
 
 "I?" he said, as quick to answer as he had be- 
 fore been slow. "No, I think not." 
 
 "La Fin," I said. "And his disclosures respect- 
 ing M. de Biron's friends." 
 
 "Ah!" he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He 
 had contrived to regain his composure, but I 
 noticed that his hand shook, and I saw that he 
 was quite unable to chew the nut he had just put 
 into his mouth. "They tell me he accuses every- 
 body," he continued, his eyes on his plate. "Even 
 the King is scarcely safe from him. But I have 
 heard no particulars." 
 
 "They will be known by-and-by," I answered 
 prudently. And after that I did not think it wise 
 to continue, lest I should give more than I got. 
 But as soon as he had finished, and we had 
 washed our hands, I led him to the closet looking 
 on the river, where I was hi the habit of working 
 with my secretaries. I sent them away and sat 
 down with him to his paper; but hi the position 
 18
 
 274 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 in which I found myself, between suspicion and 
 perplexity, I gathered little or nothing from it; 
 and had I found another doing the King's service 
 as negligently I had sent him about his business. 
 Nevertheless, I made some show of attention, and 
 had reached the schedule when something in the 
 fairly written summary, which closed the account, 
 caught my eye. I bent more closely to it, and 
 presently making an occasion to carry the parch- 
 ment into the next room, compared it with the 
 hand- writing on the scrap of paper I had found in 
 the snowball. A brief scrutiny proved that they 
 were the work of the same person ! 
 
 I went back to M. Nicholas, and after attesting 
 the accounts, and making one or two notes, re- 
 marked in a careless way on the clearness of the 
 hand. "I am badly in need of a fourth secre- 
 tary," I added. "Your scribe might do for 
 me." 
 
 It did not escape me that once again M. Nicho- 
 las looked uncomfortable. His red face took a 
 deeper tinge and his hand went nervously to his 
 pointed grey beard. "I do not think he would do 
 for you," he muttered. 
 
 "What is his name?" I asked, purposely bending 
 over the papers and avoiding his eye. 
 
 "I have dismissed him," he rejoined curtly. "I 
 do not know where he could now be found." 
 
 "That is a pity. He writes well," I answered, 
 as if it were nothing but a whim that led me to
 
 pursue the subject. "And good clerks are scarce. 
 What was his name?" 
 
 "Felix," he said reluctantly. 
 
 I had now all that I wanted. Accordingly I 
 spoke of another matter, and shortly afterwards 
 Nicholas withdrew. He left me in much suspicion ; 
 so that for nearly half an hour I walked up and 
 down the room, unable to decide whether I should 
 treat the warning of the snowball with contempt, 
 as the work of a discharged servant; or on that 
 very account attach the more credit to it. By- 
 and-by I remembered that the last sheet of the 
 roll I had audited bore date the previous day; 
 whence it was clear that Felix had been dismissed 
 within the last twenty-four hours, and perhaps 
 after the delivery of his note to me. Such a co- 
 incidence, which seemed no less pertinent than 
 strange, opened a wide field for conjecture; and 
 the possibility that Nicholas had called on me to 
 sound me and learn what I knew occurring to my 
 mind, brought me to a final determination to seek 
 out this Felix, and without the delay of an hour 
 sift the matter to the bottom. 
 
 Doubtless I shall seem to some to have acted 
 precipitately, and built much on small founda- 
 tions. I answer that I had the life of the King my 
 master to guard, and in that cause dared neglect 
 no precaution, however trivial, nor any indication, 
 however remote. Would that all my care and 
 vigilance had longer sufficed to preserve for France
 
 276 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the life of that great man I But God willed other- 
 wise. 
 
 I sent word at once to La Font, my valet-de- 
 chambre, the same who persuaded me to my first 
 marriage, to come to me; and directing him to 
 make secret inquiry where Felix, a clerk in the 
 Chamber of Accounts, lodged, bade him report to 
 me on my return from the Great Hall, where, it 
 will be remembered, it was my custom to give 
 audience after dinner to all who had business with 
 me. As it happened, I was detained that day, and 
 found him awaiting me. A man of few words, as 
 soon as the door was shut, "At the 'Three Half 
 Moons,' " he said, "in the Faubourg St. Honore, 
 my lord." 
 
 "That is near the Louvre," I answered. "Get 
 me my cloak, and your own also ; and bring your 
 pistols. I am for a walk, and you will accompany 
 me." 
 
 He was a good man, La Font, and devoted to 
 my interests. "It will be night in half an hour," 
 he answered respectfully. "You will take some of 
 the Swiss?" 
 
 " In one word, no ! " I rejoined. " We will go out 
 by the stable entrance, and until we return, I will 
 bid Maignan keep the door, and admit no one." 
 
 The crowd of those who daily left the Arsenal at 
 nightfall happened to be augmented on this occa- 
 sion by a troop of my clients from Mantes; ten- 
 ants on the lands of Rosny, who had lingered after
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 277 
 
 the hour of audience to see the courts and garden. 
 By mingling with these we passed out unobserved ; 
 nor, once in the streets, where a thaw had set in, 
 that filled the kennel with water, was La Font 
 long in bringing me to the house I sought. It 
 stood on the outskirts of the St. Honore Fau- 
 bourg, in a quarter sufficiently respectable, and a 
 street marked neither by squalor nor ostentation 
 fro,m one or other of which all desperate enter- 
 prises take their rise. The house, which was high 
 and narrow, presented only two windows to the 
 street, but the staircase was clean, and it was im- 
 possible to cross the threshold without feeling a 
 prepossession in Felix's favour. Already I began 
 to think that I had come on a fool's errand. 
 
 "Which floor?" I asked La Font. 
 
 "The highest," he answered. 
 
 I went up softly and he followed me. Under the 
 tiles I found a door, and heard some one moving 
 beyond it. Bidding La Font remain on guard, 
 and come to my aid only if I called him, I knocked 
 boldly. A gentle voice bade me enter, and I did so. 
 
 There was only one person in the room, a young 
 woman with fair waving hair, a pale freckled face, 
 and blue eyes ; who, seeing a cloaked stranger in- 
 stead of the neighbour she anticipated, stared at 
 me in the utmost wonder and in some alarm. The 
 room, though poorly furnished, was neat and 
 clean ; which, taken with the woman's complexion, 
 left me in no doubt as to her province. On the
 
 278 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 floor near the fire stood a cradle ; and in the win- 
 dow a cage with a singing bird completed the 
 homely aspect of this interior, which was such, 
 indeed, as I would fain multiply by thousands in 
 every town of France. 
 
 A lamp, which the woman was in the act of 
 lighting, enabled me to see these details, and also 
 discovered me to her. I asked politely if I spoke 
 to Madame Felix, the wife of M. Felix, of the 
 Chamber of Accounts. 
 
 "I am Madame Felix," she answered, advancing 
 slowly towards me. "My husband is late. Do 
 you come from him? It is not bad news, Mon- 
 sieur?" 
 
 The tone of anxiety in which she uttered the 
 last question, and the quickness with which she 
 raised her lamp to scan my face, went to a heart 
 already softened by the sight of this young mother 
 in her home. I hastened to answer that I had no 
 bad news, and wished to see her husband on busi- 
 ness connected with his employment. 
 
 "He is very late," she said, a shade of per- 
 plexity crossing her face. "I have never known 
 him so late before. Monsieur is unfortunate." 
 
 I replied that with her leave I would wait; on 
 which she very readily placed a stool for me, and 
 sat down by the cradle. I remarked that perhaps 
 M. Nicholas had detained her husband : she an- 
 swered that it might be so, but that she had 
 never known it happen before.
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 279 
 
 "M. Felix has evening employment?" I asked, 
 after a moment's reflection. 
 
 She looked at me in some wonder. "No," she 
 said. "He spends his evenings with me, Mon- 
 sieur. It is not much, for he is at work all 
 day." 
 
 I bowed, and was preparing another question, 
 when the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs 
 reached my ears, and led me to pause. Madame 
 heard the noise at the same moment and rose to 
 her feet. "It is my husband," she said, looking 
 towards the door with such a light in her eyes as 
 betrayed the sweetheart lingering in the wife. " I 
 was afraid I do not know what I feared," she 
 muttered to herself. 
 
 Proposing to have the advantage of seeing 
 Felix before he saw me, I pushed back my stool 
 into the shadow, contriving to do this so dis- 
 creetly that the young woman noticed nothing. 
 A moment later it appeared that I might have 
 spared my pains ; for at sight of her husband, and 
 particularly of the lack-lustre eye and drooping 
 head with which he entered, she sprang forward 
 with a cry of dismay, and, forgetting my pres- 
 ence, appealed to him to know what was the 
 matter. 
 
 He let himself fall on a stool, the first he 
 reached, and, leaning his elbows on the table in an 
 attitude of dejection, he covered his face with his 
 hands. "What is it?" he said in a hollow tone.
 
 280 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "We are ruined, Margot. That is what it is. I, 
 have no more work. I am dismissed." 
 
 "Dismissed?" she ejaculated. 
 
 He nodded. "Nicholas discharged me this 
 morning," he said, almost in a whisper. He dared 
 not speak louder, for he could not command his 
 voice. 
 
 "Why?" she asked, as she leant over him, her 
 hands busy about him. "What had you done?" 
 
 "Nothing!" he answered with bitterness. "He 
 has missed a place he thought to get ; and I must 
 suffer for it." 
 
 "But did he say nothing? Did he give no 
 reason?" 
 
 "Ay," he answered. "He said clerks were plen- 
 tiful, and the King or I must starve." 
 
 Hitherto I had witnessed the scene in silence, a 
 prey to emotions so various I will not attempt 
 to describe them. But hearing the King's name 
 thus prostituted I started forward with a vio- 
 lence which made my presence known. Felix, con- 
 founded by the sight of a stranger at his elbow, 
 rose from his seat, and retreating before me with 
 alarm painted on his countenance, he asked with 
 a faltering tongue who I was. 
 
 I replied as gently as possible that I was a 
 friend, anxious to assist him. Notwithstanding 
 that, seeing that I kept my cloak about my face 
 for I was not willing to be recognized he con- 
 tinued to look at me with distrust.
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 281 
 
 "What is your will?" he said, raising the lamp 
 much as his wife had done, to see me the better. 
 
 " The answers to two or three questions," I re- 
 plied. "Answer them truly, and I promise you 
 your troubles are at an end." So saying, I drew 
 from my pouch the scrap of paper which had come 
 to me so strangely. "When did you write this, 
 my friend?" I continued, placing it before him. 
 
 He drew a deep breath at sight of it, and a look 
 of comprehension crossed his face. For a moment 
 he hesitated. Then in a hurried manner he said 
 that he had never seen the paper. 
 
 "Come," I rejoined sternly, "look at it again. 
 Let there be no mistake. When did you write 
 that, and why?" 
 
 Still he shook his head; and, though I pressed 
 him, he continued so stubborn in his denial that, 
 but for the look I had seen on his face when I 
 produced the paper, and the strange coincidence of 
 his dismissal, I might have believed him. As it 
 was, I saw nothing for it but to have him arrested 
 and brought to my house, where I did not doubt 
 he would tell the truth ; and I was about to retire 
 to give the order, when something in a sidelong 
 glance which he cast at his wife caught my eye, 
 and furnished me with a new idea. Acting on it, 
 I affected to be satisfied. I apologized for my in- 
 trusion on the ground of mistake ; and, withdraw- 
 ing to the door, I asked him at the last moment 
 to light me downstairs.
 
 282 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Complying with a shaking hand, he went out 
 before me, and had nearly reached the foot of the 
 staircase when I touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 "Now," I said, fixing him with my eyes, "your 
 wife is no longer listening, and you can tell me the 
 truth. Who employed you to write those words?" 
 
 Trembling so violently that he had to lean on 
 the balustrade for support, he told me. 
 
 "Madame Nicholas," he whispered. 
 
 "What?" I cried, recoiling. I had no doubt he 
 was telling me the truth. "The secretary's wife, 
 do you mean? Be careful, man." 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "When?" I asked suspiciously. 
 
 "Yesterday," he answered. "She is an old 
 cat ! " he continued, with a grimace. " I hate her ! 
 But my wife is jealous, and would think all 
 things." 
 
 "And did you throw it into a coach," I said, 
 "on the Pont du Change to-day?" 
 
 "God forbid !" he replied, shrinking into himself 
 again. "I wrote it for her, and she took it away. 
 She said it was a jest that she was playing. That 
 is all I know." 
 
 I saw that he spoke the truth, and after a few 
 more words I dismissed him, bidding him keep 
 silence, and remain at home in case I needed him. 
 At the last, he plucked up spirit to ask who I 
 was; but preferring to keep that discovery for a 
 day to come, when I might appear as the bene-
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 283 
 
 factor of this little family, I told him only that 
 I was one of the King's servants, and so left 
 him. 
 
 It will be believed that I found the information 
 I had received little to my mind. The longer I 
 dwelt on it, the more serious seemed the matter. 
 While I could not imagine circumstances in which 
 a woman would be likely to inform against her 
 husband without cause, I could recall more than 
 one conspiracy which had been frustrated by in- 
 formers of that class sometimes out of regard for 
 the persons against whom they informed. Viewed 
 in this light, the warning seemed to my mind suf- 
 ficiently alarming; but when I came also to con- 
 sider the secrecy with which Madame Nicholas had 
 both prepared it and conveyed it to me, the aspect 
 of the case grew yet more formidable. In the 
 result, I had not passed through two streets be- 
 fore my mind was made up to lay the case before 
 the King, and be guided by the sagacity which 
 was never wanting to my gracious master. 
 
 An unexpected meeting which awaited me on my 
 return to the Arsenal confirmed me in this reso- 
 lution and enabled me to carry it into effect. We 
 entered without difficulty, and duly found Maig- 
 nan on guard at the door of my apartments. But 
 a glance at his face sufficed to show that some- 
 thing was wrong ; nor did it need the look of peni- 
 tence which he assumed on seeing us a look so 
 piteous that at another time it must have diverted
 
 284 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 me to convince me that he had infringed my 
 orders. 
 
 "How now, sirrah?" I said, without waiting for 
 him to speak. "What have you been doing?" 
 
 "They would take no refusal, my lord," he an- 
 swered plaintively, waving his hand towards the 
 door. 
 
 "What!" I cried sternly; for this was an in- 
 stance of such direct disobedience as I could scarce 
 understand. "Did I not give you the strictest 
 orders to deny me to everybody?" 
 
 "They would take no refusal, my lord," he an- 
 swered penitently, edging away from me as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Who are they?" I asked, leaving the question 
 of his punishment for another season. "Speak, 
 rascal, though it shall not save you." 
 
 "There are M. le Marquis de la Varenne, and M. 
 de Vitry," he said slowly, "and M. de Vic, and M. 
 Erard the engineer, and M. de Fontange, and " 
 
 " Pardieu ! " I cried, cutting him short in a rage ; 
 for he was going on counting on his fingers in a 
 manner the most provoking. "Have you let in 
 all Paris, dolt? Grace! that I should be served 
 by a fool ! Open the door, and let me see them." 
 
 With that I was about to enter ; when the door, 
 which I had not perceived to be ajar, was thrown 
 widely open, and a laughing face thrust out. It 
 was the King's. 
 
 "Ha, ha! Grandmaster!" he cried, diverted by
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 285 
 
 the success of his jest and the change which doubt- 
 less came over my countenance. " Never was such 
 hospitality, I'll be sworn ! But come, pardon this 
 varlet. And now embrace me, and tell me where 
 you have been playing truant." 
 
 Saying these words with the charm which never 
 failed him, and in his time won more foes than his 
 sword ever conquered, the King drew me into my 
 room, where I found De Vic, Vitry, Roquelaure, 
 and the rest. They all laughed heartily at my 
 surprise ; nor was Maignan, who was the author, 
 it will be remembered, of that whimsical procession 
 to Rosny after the battle of Ivry, which I have 
 elsewhere described, far behind them; the rascal 
 knowing well that the King's presence covered all, 
 and that in my gratification at the honour paid 
 me I should be certain to overlook his imperti- 
 nence. 
 
 Perceiving that this impromptu visit had no 
 other object than to divert Henry though he 
 was kind enough to say that he felt uneasy when 
 he did not see me often I begged to know if he 
 would honour me by staying to sup ; but this he 
 would not do, though he consented to drink a cup 
 of my Arbois wine, and praised it highly. By-and- 
 by I thought I saw that he was willing to be 
 alone with me ; and as I had reason to desire this 
 myself, I made an opportunity. Sending for 
 Arnaud and some of my gentlemen, I committed 
 my other guests to their care, and led the King
 
 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 into my closet, where, after requesting his leave 
 to speak on business, I proceeded to unfold to him 
 the adventure of the snowball, with all the par- 
 ticulars which I have set dow r n. 
 
 He listened attentively, drumming on the table 
 with his fingers ; nor did he move or speak when I 
 had done, but still continued in the same attitude 
 of thought. At last: "Grandmaster," he said, 
 touching with his hand the mark of the wound on 
 his lip, "how long is it since Chastel's attempt 
 when I got this?" 
 
 "Seven years last Christmas, sire," I answered, 
 after a moment's thought. 
 
 "And Barriere's?" 
 
 "That was the year before. Avenius' plot was 
 that year too." 
 
 "And the Italian's from Milan, of whom the 
 Capuchin Honorio warned us?" 
 
 "That was two years ago, sire." 
 
 "And how many more attempts have there been 
 against my person?" he continued, in a tone of 
 extreme sadness. "Kosny, my friend, they must 
 succeed at last. No man can fight against his 
 fate. The end is sure, notwithstanding your fidel- 
 ity and vigilance, and the love you bear me, for 
 which I love you, too. But Nicholas? Nicholas? 
 And yet he has been careless and distraught of 
 late. I have noticed it; and a month back I re- 
 fused to give him an appointment, of which he 
 wished to have the sale."
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 287 
 
 I did not dare to speak, and for a time Henry 
 too remained silent. At length he rose with an 
 air of resolution. 
 
 "We will clear up this matter within an hour!" 
 he said. "I will send my people back to the 
 Louvre, and do you, Grandmaster, order half a 
 dozen Swiss to be ready to conduct us to this 
 woman's house. When we have heard her we shall 
 know what to do." 
 
 I tried my utmost to dissuade him, pleading 
 that his presence could not be necessary, and 
 might prove a hindrance; besides exposing his 
 person to a certain amount of risk. But he would 
 not listen. When I saw, therefore, that his mind 
 was made up, and that as his spirits rose he was 
 inclined to welcome this expedition as a relief from 
 the efl/2 ui which at times troubled him, I reluc- 
 tantly withdrew my opposition and gave the 
 necessary orders. The King dismissed his suite 
 with a few words, and in a short space we were on 
 our way, under cover of darkness, to the secre- 
 tary's house. 
 
 He lived at this time in a court off the Rue St. 
 Jacques, not far from the church of that name; 
 and the house being remote from the eyes and 
 observation of the street, seemed not unfit for 
 secret and desperate uses. Although we noted 
 lights shining behind several of the barred win- 
 dows, the wintry night, the darkness of the court, 
 and perhaps the errand on which we came, im-
 
 288 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 parted so gloomy an aspect to the place that the 
 King hitched forward his sword, and I begged him 
 to permit the Swiss to go on with us. This, how- 
 ever, he would not allow, and they were left at the 
 entrance to the court with orders to follow at a 
 given signal. 
 
 On the steps the King, who, to disguise himself 
 the better, had borrowed one of my cloaks, stum- 
 bled and almost fell. This threw him into a fit of 
 laughter; for no sooner was he engaged in an 
 adventure which promised peril, than his spirits 
 rose to such a degree as to make him the most 
 charming companion in danger man ever had. He 
 was still shaking, and pulling me to and fro in one 
 of those boyish frolics which at times swayed him, 
 when a loud outcry inside the house startled us 
 into sobriety, and reminded us of the business 
 which brought us thither. 
 
 Wondering what it might mean, I was for rap- 
 ping on the door with my hilt. But the King put 
 me aside, and, by a happy instinct, tried the 
 latch. The door yielded to his hand, and gave us 
 admittance. 
 
 We found ourselves in a gloomy hall, ill-lit, and 
 hung with patched arras. In one corner stood a 
 group of servants. Of these some looked scared 
 and some amused, but all were so much taken up 
 with the movements of a harsh-faced woman, who 
 was pacing the opposite side of the hall, that they 
 did not heed our entrance. A glance showed me
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 289 
 
 that the woman was Madame Nicholas ; but I was 
 still at a loss to guess what she was doing or 
 what was happening in the house. 
 
 I stood a moment, and then finding that in her 
 excitement she took no notice of us, I beckoned to 
 one of the servants, and bade him tell his mistress 
 that a gentleman would speak with her. The man 
 went with the message ; but she sent him off with 
 a flea in his ear, and screamed at him so violently 
 that for a moment I thought she was mad. Then 
 it appeared that the object of her attention was a 
 door at that side of the hall; for, stopping sud- 
 denly in her walk, she went up to it, and struck 
 on it passionately and repeatedly with her hands. 
 
 "Come out!" she cried. "Come out, you vil- 
 lain ! Your friends shall not save you ! " 
 
 Restraining the King, I went forward myself, 
 and, saluting her, begged a word with her apart, 
 thinking that she would recognize me. 
 
 Her answer showed that she did not. "No!" 
 she cried, waving me off, in the utmost excitement. 
 " No ; you will not get me away ! You will not 1 
 I know your tricks. You are as bad one as the 
 other, and shield one another come what will!" 
 Then turning again to the door, she continued, 
 "Come out! Do you hear! Come out! I will 
 have no more of your intrigues and your Hal- 
 lots!" 
 
 I pricked up my ears at the name. "But, 
 
 Madame," I said, "one moment." 
 19
 
 290 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Begone!" she retorted, turning on me so 
 wrathfully that I fairly recoiled before her. "I shall 
 stay here till I drop ; but I will have him out and 
 expose him. There shall be an end of his precious 
 plots and his Hallots if I have to go to the King ! " 
 
 Words so curiously a, propos could not but recall 
 to my mind the confusion into which the mention 
 of Du Hallot had thrown the secretary earlier in 
 the day. And since they seemed also to be con- 
 sistent with the warning conveyed to me, they 
 should have corroborated my suspicions. But a 
 sense of something unreal and fantastic, with 
 which I could not grapple, continued to puzzle me 
 in the presence of this angry w T oman ; and it was 
 with no great assurance that I said, "Do I under- 
 stand then, madame, that M. du Hallot is in that 
 room?" 
 
 "Monsieur du Hallot?" she replied, in a tone 
 that was almost a scream. " No : but Madame du 
 Hallot is, and he would be if he had taken the hint 
 I sent him ! He would be ! But I will have no 
 more secrecy, and no more plots. I have suffered 
 enough, and now Madame shall suffer if she has 
 not forgotten how to blush. Are you coming out 
 there?" she continued, once more applying herself 
 to the door, her face inflamed with passion. "I 
 shall stay ! Oh, I shall stay, I assure you, until 
 you do come. Until morning if necessary!" 
 
 "But, Madame," I said, beginning to see day- 
 light, and finding words with difficulty for al-
 
 THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN 291 
 
 ready I heard in fancy the King's laughter, and 
 conjured up the quips and cranks with which he 
 would pursue me "your warning did not perhaps 
 reach M. du Ballot?" 
 
 "It reached his coach, at any rate," the scold 
 retorted. "But another time I will have no half 
 measures. As for that," she continued, turning 
 on me suddenly with her arms akimbo, and the 
 fiercest of airs, " I would like to know what busi- 
 ness it is of yours, Monsieur, whether it reached 
 him or not ! I know you, you are in league with 
 my husband ! You are here to shelter him, and 
 this Madame du Hallot who is within here ! And 
 with whom he has been carrying on these three 
 months ! But " 
 
 At that moment the door at last opened; and 
 M. Nicholas, wearing an aspect so meek and crest- 
 fallen that I hardly knew him, came out. He was 
 followed by a young woman plainly dressed, and 
 looking almost as much frightened as himself ; in 
 whom I had no difficulty in recognizing Felix's wife. 
 
 " Why ! " Madame Nicholas cried, her face falling. 
 " This is not who is this? Who" with increased 
 vehemence "is this baggage, I would like to 
 know? This shameless creature, that " 
 
 "My dear," the secretary protested, spreading 
 out his hands fortunately he had eyes only for 
 his wife and did not see us "this is one of your 
 ridiculous mistakes ! It is, I assure you. This is 
 the wife of a clerk whom I dismissed to-day,
 
 292 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 she has been with me begging me to reinstate her 
 husband. That is all. That is all, my dear, in 
 truth it is. You have made this dreadful outcry 
 for nothing. I assure you " 
 
 I heard no more, for, taking advantage of the 
 obscurity of the hall, and the preoccupation of the 
 couple, I made for the door, and passing out into 
 the darkness, found myself in the embrace of the 
 King ; who, seizing me about the neck, laughed on 
 my shoulder until he cried, continually adjuring 
 me to laugh also, and ejaculating between the 
 paroxysms, " Poor du Hallot ! Poor du Hallot ! " 
 With many things of the same nature, which any 
 one acquainted with court life may supply for 
 himself. 
 
 I confess I did not on my part find it so easy to 
 laugh : partly because I am not of so gay a dispo- 
 sition as that great prince, and partly because I 
 cannot see the ludicrous side of events in which I 
 myself take part. But on the King assuring me 
 that he would not betray the secret even to La 
 Varenne, I took comfort, and gradually reconciled 
 myself to an episode which, unlike the more seri- 
 ous events it now becomes my duty to relate, had 
 only one result, and that unimportant. I mean 
 the introduction to my service of the clerk Felix ; 
 who, proving worthy of confidence, remained with 
 me after the lamentable death of the King my 
 master, and is to-day one of those to whom I 
 entrust the preparation of these Memoirs.
 
 PART III 
 
 KING TERROR
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 
 
 IN a room on the second floor of a house in the 
 Rue Favart in Paris a large room scantily and 
 untidily furnished a man sat reading by the light 
 of an oil lamp. The hour was late, the night a 
 July night in the year 1794 year two of the 
 Republic. The house already slumbered round 
 him ; the sounds of Paris rose to his ears softened 
 by night and distance. Intent on his work, he 
 looked up from time to time to make a note ; or, 
 drawing the lamp a little nearer he trimmed its 
 wick and set it back. When this happened, the 
 light falling strongly on his face, and bringing 
 into relief its harsh lines and rugged features, 
 showed him to be a man past middle life, grey- 
 haired, severe, almost forbidding of aspect. 
 
 Peaceful as his occupation seemed, there was 
 something in the air of the room which suggested 
 change, even danger. The floor was littered with 
 packing cases and with books piled together at 
 random. On the low bedstead lay a travelling 
 cloak; on the table, by the reader's hand, lay a 
 pistol and beside it one of the huge sabres which 
 were then in fashion. Nor were these signs with- 
 out meaning. The man reading on, wrapt and 
 unconscious, in his upper room, merely followed his
 
 296 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 bent. He read and reasoned, though in the great 
 city round him the terror of the Revolution was 
 at its height ; though the rattle of the drum had 
 scarcely ceased with nightfall, and the last tumbril 
 was even now being wheeled back into its shed. 
 
 For men grow strangely callous. The danger 
 which impends daily and every day ceases to be 
 feared. Achille Mirande had seen the chiefs of his 
 party fall round him. He had seen Petion and 
 Barbaroux, Louvet and Vergniaud die the Giron- 
 dins who had dreamed with him of a republic of 
 property, free and yet law-abiding. Nor had his 
 experiences stopped there. He had seen his foes 
 perish also, the Hebertists first and later the 
 Dantonists. But for himself death seemed to 
 have passed him by. Danger had become second 
 nature ; the very rumbling of the tumbrils passing 
 his house on the way to the guillotine had ceased 
 to be anything but annoying; until to-day, to 
 avoid the interruption, he had left his house in the 
 Rue St. Honore and established himself in this 
 empty flat in the little Rue Favart. 
 
 By-and-by he laid down the book he was reading 
 and fell into deep meditation. As he sat thus, 
 alone and silent in the silent room, a sound, which 
 a keener ear would have noticed before, attracted 
 his attention. Startled in a degree by it, he 
 roused himself; he looked round. "A rat, I sup- 
 pose," he muttered. Yet he continued to peer 
 with suspicion into the corner whence the sound
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 297 
 
 had come, and presently he heard it again. The 
 next instant he sprang to his feet ; phantom-like a 
 door in the panelled wall at the back of the room 
 a door in the wall where there should have been 
 no door was swinging, nay, had swung open. 
 While he glared at it, hardly believing his senses, 
 a man appeared standing in the dark aperture. 
 
 The man was young and of middle height. 
 Dazzled by the light, and suffering apparently 
 from weakness, he paused, leaning for support 
 against the doorway. His eyes were bright, his 
 sunken cheeks told of fever or famine. His clothes 
 stained and dusty, and his unkempt hair, added 
 to the wildness of his appearance. For a moment 
 he and the owner of the room glared at one an- 
 other in speechless wonder. Then a name sprang 
 to the lips of each. 
 
 "Monsieur Mirande!" the younger man mut- 
 tered. 
 
 "De Bercy!" exclaimed the other. 
 
 The stranger said no more, but shaking with 
 agitation walked to a chair and sat down. Mi- 
 rande, his face rigid with passion, stood in silence 
 and watched him do it. Then the Republican 
 found his voice. 
 
 "You villain!" he cried, advancing a step, his 
 manner menacing. "Was it not enough that you 
 stole into my house and robbed me of my daugh- 
 ter? Was it not enough that you led her to for- 
 feit her life in your plots and then left her to die?
 
 298 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Was not this enough, that you now come and 
 insult me by your presence?" 
 
 The young man raised his hand in deprecation, 
 but seemed unable to reply. Mirande, gazing piti- 
 lessly at him, presently read his silence aright, 
 and an expression of cruel joy altered his feat- 
 ures. 
 
 " I understand," he said grimly. " I see all now. 
 You have been in hiding here. To be sure, your 
 name has been on the list of suspects these three 
 months. And you all the time have been starving 
 like a rat behind the panels ! Well, you shall have 
 food and wine. You shall eat, you shall drink. I 
 would not for the world have you cheat the 
 guillotine." 
 
 He went to a cupboard as he spoke, and, taking 
 from it bread and wine, he placed them before the 
 other. The young man made a slight gesture, as 
 though he would have refused them ; but his pale 
 face flushed with desire negatived the action, the 
 momentary resistance of his pride gave way, and 
 he ate and drank, sparingly, yet with the craving 
 of a man half -famished. 
 
 "I have not tasted food for three days," he 
 murmured presently, looking up with a glance of 
 apology. The wine had already done its work. 
 He looked a different man. His hand was steady, 
 his cheeks wore a more healthy colour. "M. 
 Chareloi hid me here," he went on, "but a week 
 ago I heard a disturbance in the house, and com-
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 299 
 
 ing out when all was quiet I found it empty and 
 locked. I fear he was arrested." 
 
 "He was guillotined five days ago," the Giron- 
 din replied with brutal frankness. 
 
 "Why? For what?" the young man ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "As a suspect," Mirande answered, shrugging 
 his shoulders. 
 
 Bercy had partly risen from his chair. He sat 
 down again, stunned. 
 
 "Things move quickly nowadays," Mirande con- 
 tinued, with a ferocious smile. "To the Luxem- 
 bourg, thence to the Conciergerie, thence to the 
 Place de la Revolution is a journey of three 
 days at most; and the path is well trodden. 
 You will find yourself in good company, M. de 
 Bercy." 
 
 "You will give me up?" 
 
 "Ay!" the Republican answered hoarsely. He 
 had risen, and stood facing his antagonist, his 
 hands on the table, his face flushed and swollen. 
 "Ay, though you were my own son ! What have 
 you not done to me? You crept like a snake into 
 my house, and robbed me of my daughter ! " 
 
 "I made her my wife!" the Vicomte answered, 
 with calm pride. 
 
 "Ay, and then? After that act of mighty con- 
 descension you led her to take part in your vile 
 plot, and when she was discovered and arrested, 
 you left her to pay the penalty. You left her to
 
 300 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 die alone rather than risk one hair of your miser- 
 able head!" 
 
 The young man sprang to his feet in sudden 
 ungovernable excitement. "It is false!" he cried. 
 "False!" 
 
 "It is true!" Mirande retorted, striking the 
 table so violently that the room rang again and 
 the flame of the lamp leapt up and for an instant 
 dyed the two angry faces with a lurid gleam. 
 
 "I say it is false!" the Vicomte replied sternly. 
 " On the contrary, being at Kheims when I heard 
 that Corinne was arrested, I took horse on the 
 instant. I rode for Paris as a man rides for life. 
 I was anxious to give myself up in her place if I 
 could save her in no other way. But at Meaux, 
 M. Mirande, I met your agent " 
 
 "And went back to Rheims again and into hid- 
 ing," the other continued, with a bitter sneer, 
 "after sending me, her father, the shameful mes- 
 sage that your duty to your race forbade the last 
 of the Bercys to die for a merchant's daughter." 
 
 "I sent that message, do you say? I? I?" the 
 young man cried. 
 
 "Yes, you! Who else? You sent it after hear- 
 ing from me that if you would surrender, the 
 Committee of Safety would suffer her to escape! 
 So much my services had wrung from them in 
 vain. What? Do you deny that you met my 
 agent at night in the yard of the Three Kings at 
 Meaux, M. le Vicomte?"
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 301 
 
 "I met him," the young man answered firmly, 
 though his frame was a-shake with excitement. 
 "But I did not send that message by him! Nor 
 did he give me such a message as you state. On 
 the contrary, he told me that I was too late, that 
 my wife had suffered two days before; and that 
 you bade me save myself, if I could." 
 
 "Ay, she suffered," Mirande answered ironically. 
 "But it was four days later. And for the rest 
 you tell me nothing but lies, and clumsy ones." 
 
 "What I tell you," the Vicomte rejoined, with a 
 solemnity which at last enforced the other's atten- 
 tion, "is as true as that I loved my wife and 
 would have died to save her. I swear it ! " 
 
 M. Mirande passed his hand over his brow, and 
 stood for a moment gazing at his son-in-law. 
 There was a new expression, an expression almost 
 of fear, in his eyes. 
 
 "Should you know the messenger again?" he 
 asked at last. 
 
 "I do not think I should," the Vicomte an- 
 swered. "He inquired for me by the name upon 
 which we had agreed. We were together for a few 
 minutes only, and the night was dark, the only 
 light a distant lanthorn." 
 
 "Would he know you, do you think?" 
 
 "I cannot say." 
 
 M. Mirande shrugged his shoulders, and strode 
 half a dozen times up and down the room, his face 
 dark with thought, with suspicion, with uncer-
 
 302 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 tainty. At length he stopped before his son-in- 
 law. 
 
 " Listen to me," he said, meeting and striving to 
 read the young man's eyes. "It is possible that 
 what you say is true and that you are not the 
 coward I have thought you. In that case you 
 shall have justice at my hands. Before I give you 
 up to the Committee of Safety, who will deal 
 shortly with you, I will resolve the doubt. Until 
 I find the means to solve it, you may stay here." 
 
 "Indeed?" cried the young man proudly. "But 
 what if I am not willing to be beholden to you?" 
 
 "Then you have your alternative!" Mirande 
 answered coolly. "Come with me to the nearest 
 Guard House, and I will inform against you. 
 After all, it will be the shortest way. It was only 
 that being a citizen, and not a ci-devant, I wished 
 to do justice even to you." 
 
 The young man hesitated. He had spoken 
 truly when he suggested that he was unwilling to 
 be beholden to Mirande. But the alternative 
 meant certain death. 
 
 "I will stop," he said, after a pause, shrugging 
 his shoulders as he accepted the strange offer 
 made him. " Why should I not? It is your agent 
 who has lied, not I." 
 
 "We shall see," replied the other, without emo- 
 tion. "There is one thing, however, I must name 
 to you. I know that you are a gallant among 
 the ladies, M, de Bercy. My daughter Claire, who,
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 303 
 
 was at the seminary when you visited me before, 
 is now at home. You will kindly restrict your in- 
 tercourse with her to the most formal limits. Un- 
 fortunately," he continued, with a strange bitter- 
 ness in his tone, "she is like her sister, and the 
 same arts that won the one, may win the other 
 from the path of duty." 
 
 "For shame, sir!" the young noble answered, 
 his eyes sparkling with indignation. "You insult, 
 not me, but your dead daughter ! Do you think 
 that I loved her for her fortune alone? Or that 
 her very image, untenanted by her soul, would 
 satisfy me?" 
 
 "They were singularly alike," Mirande mut- 
 tered with a grim shrug. "God knows! At any 
 rate you are warned." 
 
 The young man shot at him an angry glance, 
 but said no more; and Mirande, seeming to be 
 satisfied that his condition was accepted, dropped 
 the subject and proceeded to show his guest 
 where he might sleep ; for the latter felt a natural 
 reluctance to return to his narrow prison behind 
 the wainscot. In a few minutes the light was 
 extinguished and the two men, thus strangely 
 brought together again, lay a few feet from one 
 another ; the mind of each turning in the stillness 
 of the night, to the link which had bound them, 
 nay, which still bound them in a forced and un- 
 congenial union. 
 
 The Vicomte was aware that his host ran a
 
 304 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 certain risk in sheltering him. The supremacy 
 which Robespierre had won at this time, and the 
 desperate lengths to which he had gone, exposed 
 all who were not of his immediate following to 
 a jealousy that had already hurried to the guil- 
 lotine the chiefs of half a dozen sections of the 
 Republican party. Mirande, as one of the few 
 surviving Girondins and as a man still possessing 
 friends and influence was peculiarly obnoxious to 
 suspicion. The slightest accusation, the word of 
 a servant, the hint of a rival, would suffice to 
 despatch him also along the path which so many 
 trod daily. 
 
 The Vicomte, therefore, on rising in the morn- 
 ing, proposed to withdraw to his hiding-place. M. 
 Mirande, however, a little to his guest's surprise, 
 would not hear of this ; observing curtly that he 
 could trust his household, and that a change of 
 name was all that safety required. The younger 
 man, whose anxiety was not on his own account 
 only, would have argued the point; but his host 
 cut short the matter by opening the door, and 
 ushering the Vicomte, almost before the young 
 man was aware, into another room a room, 
 large and scantily furnished, but in other respects 
 in striking contrast to that which he had left. 
 Here the tall, narrow windows, three in number, 
 were open; the sunlight poured in through half- 
 closed jalousies and fell in bars on the shining 
 parquet, and on a little table daintily laid for the
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 305 
 
 morning meal and gay with flowers. In the cooler 
 and darker parts of the room stood high-backed 
 chairs littered with a dozen articles which spoke 
 of a woman's presence ; here a fan and silk hood, 
 there a half-mended glove. As the young man's 
 eyes fell on these, and he drank in the airy bright- 
 ness and even luxury of the room, he felt a strange 
 pang of regret and misery. Such things were 
 no longer for him. Such prettinesses no longer 
 formed part of his life. And then he turned, and 
 in an instant forgot his unhappiness and his loss 
 in the sight of a young girl who, seated a little 
 aside, had risen at his entrance and now stood 
 facing him, her back to the light. 
 
 He had been warned; yet he stood thunder- 
 struck, breathless, staring. His eyes grew large, 
 his jaw fell, the room for a moment went round 
 with him. The likeness of the woman before him 
 to his dead wife was so strong, so complete, so 
 astonishing, that involuntarily, not knowing what 
 he did, he held out his hands. 
 
 "Corinne!" he muttered, his voice full of tears. 
 "Corinne!" 
 
 The girl, who but for the ravages of ill-health 
 would have been very beautiful, did not answer; 
 nevertheless she seemed scarcely less affected by 
 his sudden appearance and his strange address. 
 She swayed on her feet, and had she not grasped 
 a chair would have fallen. A burning flush for an 
 instant lit up her wan cheek, to disappear at the
 
 306 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 first sound of her father's voice. He had followed 
 Bercy into the room, and his tone was sharp with 
 reproof and warning. 
 
 "Citizen Perrot," he said sternly, "this is my 
 daughter Claire. Here is your place. Be seated, 
 if you please." 
 
 The Vicomte mechanically did as he was told 
 without looking where he sat. His hands shook, 
 his brain was on fire. He had eyes only for the 
 girl; who was so wondrously, so completely, like 
 his wife. She had taken her seat with some ti- 
 midity at the other side of the table, and if she no 
 longer betrayed the same emotion, her eyes were 
 downcast, the colour fluttered in her cheeks. It 
 was in vain that Mirande shot angry glances at 
 her and at him. The young man stared as one 
 enchanted, seeing only the white-robed figure 
 seated between himself and the sunlight, that, 
 shining through her dark hair, found golden 
 threads in it, and crowned the face he knew so 
 well with an aureole of brightness. 
 
 Gradually the spell fell from him. For as he 
 looked, the girl's face changed and hardened and 
 grew older ; grew sharper and whiter ; and he dis- 
 cerned the difference between Claire and Corinne. 
 Corinne had never looked at him, or at any one, 
 after that fashion. With a sigh, yet with eyes 
 that often and involuntarily returned to the 
 lode-star, he recovered himself; and he made, or 
 pretended to make, a meal. His appetite, how-
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 307 
 
 ever, was gone, and he was thankful when his 
 host rose and put an end to the constrained sit- 
 ting. 
 
 " You will excuse me," the Republican said, draw- 
 ing out his watch and looking at it. "I should 
 be at M. Carnot's at this hour. These rooms, 
 however, are at your disposal, my friend; and if 
 you want books, my daughter will direct you 
 where to find them. But caution, remember ! " 
 
 And with that, to the Vicomte's astonishment, 
 M. Mirande departed, leaving the two together. 
 For a moment the young man sat, troubled and 
 perplexed, gazing at the floor. He had intercepted 
 the glance of warning which his host on leaving 
 had aimed at his daughter; and with the knowl- 
 edge that he was suspected, with the brutally frank 
 exhortation addressed to himself fresh in his mind, 
 to be left alone with the girl surprised him beyond 
 measure. 
 
 Presently he stole a look at her. She had passed 
 to one of the windows, and, having seated her- 
 self, was employed upon some needle-work. Her 
 attitude, the lines of her figure, the pose of her 
 head, presented the same abnormal maddening 
 resemblance to his wife; and slowly, as if fasci- 
 nated, he moved nearer to her. 
 
 "Pardon me," he said at last, speaking almost 
 in a whisper. "You are very like your sister, 
 mademoiselle." 
 
 She glanced quickly at him, her face wearing
 
 308 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 the hard, sharp look that had slowly grown upon 
 it. But she gave him no other answer. 
 
 He felt that he ought to leave her, but the spell 
 was upon him and he lingered. 
 
 "You have been ill, I fear," he said, after a long 
 silence. 
 
 ' ' Monsieur is right, ' ' she answered briefly. ' ' The 
 times are such that few of us escape. Those are 
 perhaps most happy," and as she paused on the 
 word she looked up at him, "who die with their 
 beliefs unshattered, before discovering the clay 
 feet of their idols." 
 
 He started. 
 
 "Mademoiselle!" he cried almost fiercely, car- 
 ried away by an intensely painful thought. "My 
 wife ! Your sister? Answer me, answer me quick- 
 ly, I beg of you. They did not they did not tell 
 her that I that I refused " 
 
 "That monsieur declined to save her?" Made- 
 moiselle Claire answered slowly, her great dark 
 eyes looking into vacancy into the depths of 
 gloomy memories. "Yes, they did. A woman, 
 perhaps, would not have done it ; would not have 
 borne to do it. But men are cruel cruel ! And 
 after all it helped her to die, you understand. It 
 made it more easy." 
 
 He walked to the other end of the room, his 
 face hidden in his hands. And there his frame 
 began to be racked by deep sobs. He tried to 
 summon up his pride, his courage, his manliness ;
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 309 
 
 but in vain. The thought that the woman who 
 had loved and trusted him, his young wife his 
 young wife of a few months only had died be- 
 lieving him a coward and an ingrate was too 
 bitter ! Too bitter, the conviction that, mistaken 
 as her belief was, it could never be altered ! Never 
 be altered ! She would never know ! 
 
 A light touch on his arm recalled him to himself. 
 He turned and found Mademoiselle Claire at his 
 elbow holding a glass of wine towards him. Her 
 lips were compressed, but her face wore a delicate 
 flush, and her eyes were changed and softened. 
 
 "Drink," she muttered hurriedly. "You are 
 still weak; you have eaten nothing." 
 
 He controlled himself by an effort and took the 
 wine ; and the girl, moving away quickly, brought 
 from the table a roll and, without again meeting 
 his eyes, laid it on a chair beside him. She was 
 in the act of regaining her place by the window, 
 when the door opened somewhat abruptly, and 
 the young Vicomte, scarcely master of himself, 
 turned and discovered a man standing on the 
 threshold. 
 
 The stranger stared at him and he at the stran- 
 ger, while Mademoiselle Claire, with eyes which on 
 a sudden became keen and intent, seemed to for- 
 get herself in gazing on both. The new-comer was 
 taller than the Vicomte and of about the same 
 age; a thin, lithe man, with restless eyes and 
 dark, tumbled hair. He scanned the Vicomte with
 
 310 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 at least as much disfavour as the latter, taken 
 by surprise, spent on him; and he was the first 
 to speak. 
 
 " I thought that you were alone, mademoiselle," 
 he said, frowning as he advanced into the room 
 and looked about him suspiciously. 
 
 "This is a friend of my father's," she answered, 
 "He is staying with us, M. Baudouin." 
 
 The explanation did not seem to improve mat- 
 ters in the young man's eyes. He frowned still 
 more gloomily. 
 
 "Monsieur is from the country?" he asked. 
 
 "No," the Vicomte answered. "I have been in 
 Paris some months." 
 
 The stranger looked darkly down, toying with 
 a book which lay at the edge of the table. The 
 girl waited awhile and then 
 
 "Did you bring a message from my father?" 
 she asked, a slight tinge of impatience and hau- 
 teur in her manner. 
 
 "No, mademoiselle, I have not seen him this 
 morning," he answered. And his sullenness 
 matched her impatience. 
 
 "Had you not better follow him then?" she 
 said, with sharpness. " He is at M. Carnot's. He 
 may need you." 
 
 For a moment it was plain that M. Baudouin 
 hesitated, but in the end he made up his mind to 
 obey, and bowing with exaggerated respect he left 
 the room.
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 311 
 
 The Vicomte thought that he could not do bet- 
 ter than follow the other's example, and he too 
 withdrew. Crossing the lobby to the room which 
 communicated with his hiding-place he threw him- 
 self into a chair and gave himself up to the most 
 melancholy reflections. The singular resemblance 
 which Mademoiselle Claire bore to his wife must 
 alone have sufficed to fill him with vain longings 
 and poignant regrets ; but these were now rendered 
 a thousand times more bitter by the knowledge, 
 so cruelly conveyed to him, that his wife had died 
 believing him a heartless and faithless coward. 
 
 The return of M. Mirande later in the day, if it 
 did not dispel these gloomy thoughts, compelled 
 him at any rate to conceal them. The evening 
 meal passed much as the morning one had passed ; 
 the host uttering a few formal phrases, while the 
 other two sat for the most part silent. The Vi- 
 comte could not avert his eyes from his sister-in- 
 law; and though he no longer felt the violent 
 emotions which her face had at first awakened in 
 him, he sat sad and unhappy. Her pale features 
 reminded him of the dead past : and at once 
 tortured him with regret, and tantalized him with 
 the simulacrum of that which had been his. He 
 could have cursed the Heaven that had formed 
 two beings so much alike. 
 
 In this way a week passed by, and little by little 
 a vague discomfort and restlessness began to 
 characterize the attitude of his mind towards
 
 312 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 her. He felt himself at once attracted by her 
 beauty as what man of his years would not? 
 and repelled by the likeness that made of the 
 feeling a sacrilege. Meantime, whether he would 
 or no, they were left together much together. 
 M. Mirande went abroad each day and seemed 
 intent on public affairs. Each day, indeed, his 
 look grew a trifle more austere, and the shade 
 on his brow grew deeper; but though it was 
 evident that the situation out-of-doors was 
 growing more strained, the storms which were 
 agitating Paris and desolating so many homes 
 affected the little household in no other way. The 
 Vicomte kept necessarily within, spending most of 
 his time in reading. Mademoiselle Claire also 
 went seldom abroad ; and it followed that during 
 the long July days when the sunshine flooded the 
 second floor, in the early mornings when the spar- 
 rows perched on the open jalousies and twittered 
 gaily, or in the grey evenings, when the night fell 
 slowly, they met from time to time met not in- 
 frequently. On such occasions the Vicomte noticed 
 that Baudouin was never far distant. The secre- 
 tary, as a rule, put in an appearance before the 
 conversation had lasted ten minutes. 
 
 Bercy began to suspect the cause of this, and 
 one day he happened upon a discovery. He was 
 sitting in M. Mirande's room, when the sound 
 of a raised voice made him lay down his book 
 and listen. The voice seemed to come from the
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 313 
 
 parlour. Once he was assured of this, and that 
 the speaker, whose anger was apparent, was not 
 Mirande, he took his steps. He stole out upon the 
 lobby, and found the parlour door as he had sus- 
 pected slightly ajar. Any scruples he might have 
 entertained were dispelled by the certainty that 
 the speaker was Baudouin and that the person 
 whom he was addressing in harsh and vehement 
 tones, was Mademoiselle Claire. The Vicomte 
 drew himself up behind the door and listened. 
 
 "What would I have?" were the first words he 
 caught. "Little enough, heaven knows! Little 
 enough ! What have I ever asked except to be 
 allowed to serve? To gratify your least caprice. 
 To be at your beck and call. To fetch and carry 
 while another basked in your smiles. That is all 
 I asked in the old days and I ask no more now. 
 I am content to serve and wait and hope. But I 
 will have no stranger come between us. Not 
 again ! Not again ! " 
 
 "You do not understand, M. Baudouin," the 
 girl answered hurriedly. 
 
 "Do I not?" he cried. "Perhaps I did not un- 
 derstand last time. But this time I do. I do ! 
 It had been well for you had I known more 
 then!" 
 
 "Spare me," she said faintly, overcome appar- 
 ently by some hidden meaning in his words. 
 
 "That you may amuse yourself with this stran- 
 ger?" he retorted. "No, I have given way
 
 314 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 enough. It had been better, as I say, if I had 
 not, mademoiselle." 
 
 The stress he laid on the last word was unintelli- 
 gible to the hidden listener, who knew only that 
 it veiled an insult and drew nearer to the door. 
 The girl remained silent and Baudouin presuming 
 on this continued in a tone still more aggressive, 
 "Times are changed, mademoiselle, changed in 
 the last month. You, living out of the world, are 
 ignorant of what is passing, and your father is 
 being left as completely behind. Unless I make a 
 mistake, in a little time you will need other and 
 stronger protection than his." 
 
 "Not while' he lives," the girl answered, in a 
 low tone. 
 
 Baudouin laughed. "The pitcher goes often to 
 the well, but it is broken at last," he said drily. 
 "I would have you understand that, since you 
 may stand in need of my help, you would do 
 well not to try me too far." 
 
 "M. Baudouin," the girl said abruptly and her 
 tone was changed, and the listener, though he 
 could not sec her, could picture the challenge of 
 her startled eyes "you have never spoken to me 
 in this way before. You have changed." 
 
 "So are the times. Those who were servants 
 are now masters!" 
 
 "You will never be mine," the girl said firmly. 
 
 "We shall see!" he answered. 
 
 "We shall see!" cried an unexpected voice
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 315 
 
 that of the Vicomte, who could bear it no lon- 
 ger. His eyes stern, his colour high, he flung the 
 door wide and entered. The secretary, startled, 
 stepped back a pace. The girl, who had been 
 standing close to the door, turned, and seeing 
 who it was, uttered a low cry of thankfulness ; in 
 her relief she even stretched out her hands as if 
 she would grasp the new-comer's arm. The next 
 instant she drew back, a strange expression in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Now, sir," the young Vicomte continued, 
 harshly, "you have to deal with a man, and not 
 with a woman whom you can terrify. I have 
 overheard all, and I warn you that on his return 
 I shall repeat it word for word to M. Mirande, 
 who will know how to deal with you." 
 
 He expected that the threat would produce its 
 effect, and that the secretary taken in the act 
 would resume his normal demeanour. But Bau- 
 douin, his first surprise over, merely smiled. "Who 
 are you, I wonder," he replied grimly. "One 
 in the Tallien-Barrere-Carnot conspiracy, that's 
 afoot, I suppose. If so, I need not " 
 
 "You need suppose nothing!" the Vicomte re- 
 torted fiercely. "But leave the room without 
 words, you dog!" 
 
 "Thank you," said the secretary, smiling con- 
 temptuously. "But I would have you remember 
 that a living dog is better than a dead lion." 
 
 With that and with little show of embarrass-
 
 316 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 ment or dismay he went out. As the door closed 
 behind him a singular constraint fell upon the 
 two who were left. The Vicomte, with a grave 
 face, paused by the table, and stood listening to 
 the sound of his retreating footsteps. The girl, 
 who had withdrawn to the farther end of the 
 room, kept her face averted. The Vicomte looked 
 at her doubtfully looked at her more than once. 
 1 'Mademoiselle," he ventured at last, his voice low 
 and agitated, "I am afraid he I am afraid he 
 means mischief." 
 
 "I fear so," she whispered without turning. 
 
 "Will you shall I speak to your father?" 
 
 "It may be better," she answered hi the same 
 tone. 
 
 He looked at her long at that, but she did not 
 move ; and with a gesture as of farewell he turned 
 and went softly away. Safe in his own room, 
 with the door shut, he stood in the middle of the 
 floor thinking; thinking not of the secretary nor 
 of the danger with which Baudouin's enmity threat- 
 ened the house, but of the strange look which the 
 girl's face had worn on his first appearance at her 
 side, the look of relief and thankfulness which he 
 had surprised in her eyes, the impulse of confi- 
 dence which had made her move towards him! 
 He recalled them all, and his brow grew hot, his 
 hand trembled. He felt at once terror and shame. 
 When he heard M. Mirande's step on the stairs, 
 he gave himself no time for thought, but went
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 317 
 
 hurriedly out on the lobby and called him into the 
 room. "M. Mirande," he said, "I have some- 
 thing to tell you. I have two things to tell you." 
 
 The Republican looked at him, his inscrutable 
 eyes betraying no surprise. "What are they?" he 
 asked, his tone almost phlegmatic. 
 
 "The man Baudouin has been here, addressing 
 himself so rudely to your daughter that I felt 
 myself obliged to to interfere." 
 
 "That is unlucky." 
 
 "It may be that he has your confidence," the 
 young Vicomte continued, "but, from the way in 
 which he spoke of you, I doubt if you have his. 
 He seemed to me a dangerous man, M. Bau- 
 douin." 
 
 "Did he use threats?" the Republican asked, a 
 slight shade of anxiety in his tone. 
 
 The Vicomte nodded. 
 
 "Did he mention any names?" M. Mirande con- 
 tinued, looking sharply at his watch. 
 
 "Yes. Those of Carnot, Barrere and I think, 
 Tallien." 
 
 "Ah!" Fora moment M. Mirande's impulse 
 seemed to be to leave the room; to leave it hur- 
 riedly, to go back perhaps whence he had come. 
 But he thought better of it, and after a pause he 
 continued, "Had you not something else to tell 
 me?" 
 
 "I had," the young man answered, betraying, 
 by his agitation, that he had now come to the
 
 318 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 real purpose for which he had sought the inter- 
 view. "I wish to leave, M. Mirande. I wish to 
 leave your house at once. I do not know," he 
 continued hurriedly, before the elder man could 
 utter the dry retort which was on his lips, 
 "whether you had it in your mind to try me by 
 leaving me with your daughter, or whether I 
 have only my own weakness to thank. But I 
 must go. I am ashamed of myself, I hate myself 
 for it ; but I cannot be with her and not feel what 
 I ought not to feel. Understand me," the young 
 man continued, his cheeks pale; "it is not by 
 reason of any charm of hers, but because she is 
 so like so like my wife because she seems a dozen 
 times a day to be my wife, that my memory is 
 unfaithful to Corinne that I dare not remain 
 here another day!" 
 
 He stopped abruptly. M. Mirande coughed. 
 
 "This is a strange confession," he said, after a 
 long pause. "You have said nothing to Claire?" 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" 
 
 "Then say nothing!" the Republican replied 
 with curt decision. "As for leaving this place 
 to-day, it is impossible. A crisis is at hand ; this 
 house is watched. You would be recognized and 
 arrested before you passed ten yards from the 
 door. Moreover," he went on, seeming to ponder 
 deeply as he spoke, "if you are right about Bau- 
 douin and I doubt now whether I have been 
 wise to trust him I see great and immediate
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 319 
 
 danger before me. Therefore, if you would not 
 desert the sinking ship, you must remain." 
 
 "I dare not," the young man muttered, shak- 
 ing his head. 
 
 "What?" the old Girondin answered, his voice 
 swelling, his eyes growing bright. " You a noble, 
 and you dare not? You a noble, and you cannot 
 govern yourself? Consider, M. le Vicomte! A 
 few days may see me traverse the road so many 
 traverse every day; the road of the guillotine. 
 Then my daughter will be alone, defenceless, un- 
 protected. I ask you for I have no one else to 
 whom I can turn to be her brother and her 
 guardian. Do you refuse?" 
 
 "You no longer distrust me?" the Vicomte mut- 
 tered, his cheek hot. 
 
 "When you came to me a week ago," Mirande 
 answered, "I did not foresee this crisis, nor the 
 present danger. If I had, I might have received 
 you differently. But, see you, what if this be the 
 way in which I would try you?" he continued 
 with energy. "What if this be the atonement 
 heaven has assigned to you? In that case, do 
 you accept, or do you refuse?" 
 
 "I accept," the Vicomte answered solemnly, 
 carried away by the other's burst of feeling. "I 
 accept the charge." 
 
 M. Mirande smiled, but only for a moment. 
 Quickly the light died out of his face, leaving it 
 stern and austere. His brow grew ciarkj and turn-
 
 320 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 ing with a sigh to his table, he signed to his 
 companion to leave him, and was presently im- 
 mersed in figures and calculations. 
 
 The young man retired ; on his side full of doubt 
 and amazement, yet lifted by the other's appeal 
 to a higher level of will and purpose. Confidence 
 begets honour. Frankly as he had gone to the 
 Girondin with his confession, so frankly had the 
 other received it. Now he felt that it behoved 
 him to deserve confidence. Henceforth Claire must 
 be his sister. But he knew that merely to call 
 her sister was not all. He knew enough of his 
 own weakness to recognize the necessity of shun- 
 ning temptation, and during the next three days 
 he was careful to avoid conversation with the 
 girl ; who on her part seemed to observe nothing, 
 but went to and fro about her household duties. 
 
 And yet she did not go about them as usual, a 
 keen observer would have said. A subtle change 
 had come over her. Alone in her room she sang 
 to herself low crooning songs of happiness. Her 
 eyes, so carefully lowered in the parlour, shone 
 with a tender brightness, when no one saw them. 
 Her cheek had grown fuller, her colour stronger, 
 her whole being radiant. If she still went deli- 
 cately when other's eyes were upon her, it was 
 rather in sympathy with the heavy air of fear 
 and expectation which pervaded the house, which 
 pervaded the city, than in obedience to her nat- 
 ural impulses.
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 321 
 
 On the third evening, M. Mirande, who had been 
 abroad all day, came home rather later than 
 usual. The Vicomte and Claire were sitting in 
 separate rooms, but something ominous in the 
 sound of his footstep as he mounted the stairs, 
 drew them both to the lobby to receive him. The 
 evening light, shining through the window be- 
 hind them, fell full upon his face and exaggerated 
 its cold and grey severity. They waited for him 
 in silence, and he did not see them until he set his 
 foot on the last step. Then he pointed to his 
 room, and, "Go in there, my children," he said 
 gravely. 
 
 The young man started. The girl blushed and 
 trembled. They both obeyed. M. Mirande's next 
 act was equally surprising. Following them into 
 the room he proceeded to lock and bolt the door 
 behind him ; and then passing quickly to the win- 
 dow he looked out. For a moment they stood 
 behind him in silence. After a pause the Vicomte 
 spoke. 
 
 "What is it?" he said. 
 
 "The order for my arrest was signed an hour 
 ago," the Girondin answered, his eyes still glued 
 to the window. "You are both included in it. 
 Ah ! here they are ! " 
 
 "Who?" the Vicomte asked with energy. 
 
 "Baudouin and three officers. However, the 
 door is shut. It is strong, and will gain us a 
 few minutes." 
 21
 
 322 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "To what end?" The Vicomte spoke coldly. 
 Mirande's conduct took him by surprise, for re- 
 sistance to arrest was rare during the Revolution. 
 Such men as Mirande, courageous, bigoted, de- 
 voted to an ideal, made a point unless they re- 
 sorted to suicide of submitting calmly to destiny 
 and the law. 
 
 The Girondin, however, had decided otherwise. 
 Nor did he seem to be aware of his companion's 
 disapproval. He did not answer, but continued 
 to look out long after the tramp of heavy foot- 
 steps on the stairs had drawn his daughter to his 
 side. There was a loud summons without, "In 
 the name of the law ! " but the three remained 
 silent, standing close together, the girl's white, 
 scared face glimmering in the increasing darkness 
 of the room. The Vicomte a foot from her, could 
 almost hear the dull beating of her heart. 
 
 "Can nothing be done?" he muttered. 
 
 "We can do nothing but wait and be silent," 
 the Republican answered calmly. "They know we 
 are here, but if we do not answer, they may pause 
 awhile before they attack the door. And every 
 moment is a moment gained." 
 
 The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders, but acqui- 
 esced ; and some minutes elapsed minutes which 
 seemed hours to more than one of the three be- 
 fore the locksmith for whom the Commissary had 
 sent, assailed the door, and the almost empty 
 house rang with the harsh > ounds of his hammer.
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 323 
 
 Crash ! The door was open at last, letting into 
 the room a flood of light, and with the light 
 three men who entered with levelled arms. The 
 foremost, an officer girt with a huge tricolour 
 scarf, stopped abruptly, his jaw dropping ludi- 
 crously as his eyes fell on the placid group before 
 him. "Citizen Achille Mirande?" he said inter- 
 rogatively. "Yes? I am empowered to arrest 
 you in the name of the Committee of Safety ; you, 
 your daughter also present I think and a guest. 
 This I presume is the person?" 
 
 "It is," Mirande answered quietly. "Perhaps 
 you will permit me to show you where my papers 
 are. They may be needed?" 
 
 "They will be needed," the Commissary replied, 
 re-arranging his scarf, which had been pulled awry. 
 "You may certainly collect them under surveil- 
 lance." 
 
 "I can saveM. Mirande the trouble," remarked a 
 mocking voice in the background. "I think I can 
 lay my hand on any paper that may be required." 
 
 "I do not doubt it, Baudouin," the Girondin 
 answered placidly. "I take it that I have to 
 thank you for this?" 
 
 There was shame as well as triumph in the secre- 
 tary's eyes as he came forward. " You cannot say 
 I did not warn you," he said, avoiding the look 
 of scorn which Claire who stood by her father's 
 side, her hand in his shot at him. "But you 
 would go your way."
 
 324 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "And you, yours !" Mirande retorted. " An old 
 way Judas's. But hark you, my friend ! You 
 seem to be prospering now. You have kicked 
 down the ladder by which you have risen. Yet it 
 is in my power to wound you. See you, do you 
 know who this is?" and he pointed to the Vicomte 
 who, with his arms folded, was gazing haughtily 
 at the Commissary and his followers. 
 
 "A conspirator against the safety of the Re- 
 publicthat is all I know," Baudouin answered 
 sullenly. 
 
 " Possibly," said Mirande. " But not the less for 
 that my son-in-law!" 
 
 "The Vicomte de Bercy!" Baudouin almost 
 shouted. "It is false. I heard of him but yester- 
 day at Nantes." 
 
 "You heard wrongly then!" Mirande answered 
 with a cold sneer. "This is the man whom you 
 met at Meaux, and of whom you lied to me, say- 
 ingthat you might divide him effectually from 
 my daughter that he refused to surrender him- 
 self to save her." 
 
 "It was true what I told you," the secretary 
 muttered, gazing at Bercy with hatred. 
 
 "It was false ! " cried the Girondin sternly. "Do 
 I need evidence? I have it. Whom shall I be- 
 lieve, you, who have betrayed me to-day, or he 
 who remained by my side in danger?" 
 
 "He could not escape," Baudouin said abruptly. 
 His face was pale, the perspiration stood on his
 
 A DAUGHTEK OF THE GIKONDE 325 
 
 brow. His jealous eyes glared askance at the 
 girl's face. Mirande had said rightly. He had 
 yet the power to wound this traitor. 
 
 "He did not attempt it," the Girondin answered. 
 "And besides, I have tried him as gold in the 
 fire! Look you at this. Bercy!" As the name 
 rang through the room the speaker turned to 
 the Vicomte and took his hand, "My friend, I 
 have deceived you. My daughter did not die. I 
 procured her pardon by the use of such influence 
 as I possessed at that time. But having done 
 that, deluded by this villain's tale, I forced her to 
 renounce you and to take her maiden name." 
 
 For an instant there was silence in the room. 
 
 "She did not die?" the young man muttered, 
 his eyes dilating. Then, before an answer could 
 be given, he plucked his hand from Mirande's 
 grasp and seizing him by the shoulder shook him 
 to and fro. 
 
 " Where is she?" he cried hoarsely. " Speak, man, 
 what have you done with her? Where is she?" 
 
 "She is behind you." 
 
 Bercy turned. Claire was behind him. "Claire?" 
 he cried. "Claire?" 
 
 The girl stood, her eyes slightly downcast, her 
 arms hanging by her sides. And then at the 
 sound of the name uttered a second time, she 
 looked up, her eyes swimming with love and tears. 
 "No, Corinne!" she said simply. And then, in 
 a voice which pierced the traitor's bosom as with
 
 326 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 a sword, she continued, " Honore, my husband ! 
 Forgive me ! Forgive me that I distrusted you ! 
 That I disowned you!" 
 
 He did not answer, but he opened his arms and 
 took her into them and held her there ; while the 
 father went to the window perhaps to hide his 
 emotion, and the Commissary lifted up his hands 
 in admiration genuine and French of this moving 
 scene. As for Baudouin, he bit his nails, his face 
 white with rage. 
 
 He cursed the delay. He would have cursed the 
 police, had he dared, and had not the tricolour 
 scarf awed him. "Bah!" he exclaimed at last in 
 venomous tones, "a fine piece of play-acting, M. 
 Mirande ! And our friends here have indulgently 
 given you time for it. But it is over, and the 
 sequel will be less pleasant, I fear. He laughs 
 best who laughs last." 
 
 "That is true," Mirande answered soberly; and 
 for an instant from his place at the window, he 
 looked into the room. 
 
 "In three days you will sneeze into the sack, my 
 friends," Baudouin continued with savage mock- 
 ery, i ."Your married bliss, M. le Vicomte, will last 
 but a short time, I fear. As for mademoiselle, 
 Sanson will prove but a rough coiffeur, I doubt." 
 
 "Silence !" the Girondin cried ; and his tone was 
 strangely altered, his voice vibrated strangely 
 through the room. " Silence, you hound ! " he con- 
 tinued, turning from the window and walking into
 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE 327 
 
 the middle of the chamber, his figure drawn to 
 its full height, his hand outstretched. "Be still, 
 and tremble for your own head. The warrant 
 you bring is signed by Maximilien Robespierre?" 
 
 "The Incorruptible," murmured the Commis- 
 sary. And saluted. 
 
 "Corruptible or Incorruptible," Mirande re- 
 joined, with a sneer, "he is fallen! He is fallen! 
 Within the last ten minutes he has been arrested 
 and lodged in the Tuileries!" 
 
 "You rave!" cried the officer. While Bercy and 
 Corinne cast dazed glances about them, and the 
 other men stared in stupid wonder. 
 
 "I do not rave !" the Girondin answered, stand- 
 ing in the middle of the room, the master of the 
 situation. "I tell but the fact. Mark the three 
 lighted candles in yonder upper window. They are 
 a signal that Robespierre is arrested. Go, if you 
 doubt me, and ask. Or you need not. Listen, 
 listen !" With a gesture of command, he raised his 
 hand, and all stood silent. For an instant there 
 seemed equal silence in the streets below ; but grad- 
 ually as they listened there grew out of this silence 
 a distant hollow murmur, as of a great sea swell- 
 ing higher and louder with each moment. The 
 face of more than one in the room lost its colour. 
 
 " The Faubourgs are rising," muttered the Com- 
 missary uneasily. "There is something amiss." 
 
 "On the contrary," answered the Girondin 
 quietly, "there is nothing amiss, but things are
 
 328 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 in a fair way to be set straight. If you will take 
 my advice you will tear up that warrant, my 
 friend. To-morrow it will be more dangerous to 
 you than to me. The Terror of these days is 
 over," he continued solemnly. "For those who 
 have profited by it the reckoning remains!" 
 
 M. Mirande was right. Abruptly as this narra- 
 tion ends, the Terror, so famous in history, came 
 to its end; and many a life held worthless a few 
 minutes before was saved. For twenty-four hours 
 indeed the fate of Eobespierre and indirectly of 
 our friends hung in the balance, all men trembling 
 and watching what would happen and who would 
 prevail. Then he fell, and the cruelty of his rule 
 recoiled on his associates. What became of Bau- 
 douin is not known for certain, though one tale 
 alleges that he was met and murdered by a com- 
 pany of Royalists near Nantes, and another, that 
 he was guillotined under another name with Fou- 
 quier Tinville and his gang. Enough that he dis- 
 appeared unmarked and unregretted, along with 
 many others of the baser and more obscure ad- 
 venturers of the time. 
 
 Of Bercy and Corinne, re- wedded under circum- 
 stances so strange and so abnormal, we know 
 only that their descendants, well versed in this 
 tradition of the family, still flourish on the Loire, 
 and often and often tell this tale under the wal- 
 nut-trees on summer evenings. Nor are there 
 wanting to-day both a Corinne and a Claire.
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW! 
 
 ON the moorland above the old grey village of 
 Carhaix, in Finistere Finistere, the most westerly 
 province of Brittany stands a cottage, built, as 
 all the cottages in that country are, of rough- 
 hewn stones. It is a poor, rude place to-day, but 
 it wore an aspect still more rude and primitive a 
 hundred years ago on an August day in the year 
 1793, when a man issued from the low doorway, 
 and, shading his eyes from the noonday sun, 
 gazed long and fixedly in the direction of a nar- 
 row rift which a few score paces away breaks the 
 monotony of the upland level. The man was tall 
 and thin and unkempt, and his features, which 
 expressed a mixture of cunning and simplicity, 
 matched his figure. He gazed a while in silence, 
 but at length he uttered a grunt of satisfaction 
 as the figure of a woman rose gradually into 
 sight. She came slowly towards him in a stoop- 
 ing posture, dragging behind her a great load of 
 straw, which completely hid the little sledge on 
 which it rested, and which was attached to her 
 waist by a rope of twisted hay. 
 
 The figure of a woman rather of a girl. As 
 she drew nearer it could be seen that her cheeks,
 
 330 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 though brown and sunburned, were as smooth as 
 a child's. She seemed to be still in her teens. Her 
 head was bare, and her short petticoats, of some 
 coarse stuff, left visible bare feet thrust into 
 wooden shoes. She advanced with her head bent, 
 and her shoulders strained forward, her face dull 
 and patient. Once, and once only, when the man's 
 eyes left her for a moment, she shot at him a 
 look of scared apprehension ; and later, when she 
 came abreast of him, her breath coming and going 
 with her exertions, he might have seen, had he 
 looked closely, that her strong brown limbs were 
 trembling under her. 
 
 But the man noticed nothing in his impatience, 
 and only chid her for her slowness. "Where have 
 you been dawdling, lazy-bones?" he cried. 
 
 She murmured, without halting, that the sun 
 was hot. 
 
 "Sun hot !" he retorted. "Jeanne is lazy, that 
 is it ! Mon Dieu, that I should have married a 
 wife who is tired by noon ! I had better have left 
 you to that never-do-well Pierre Bounat. But I 
 have news for you, my girl." 
 
 He lounged after her as he spoke, his low cun- 
 ning face the face of the worst kind of French 
 peasant nickering with cruel pleasure, as he saw 
 how she winced at the name he had mentioned. 
 She made him no answer, however. Instead, she 
 drew her load with increased vehemence towards 
 one of the two doors which led into the build-
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 331 
 
 ing. "Well, well, I will tell you presently," 
 he called after her. "Be quick and come to din- 
 ner." 
 
 He entered himself by the other door. The 
 house was divided into two chambers by a breast- 
 high partition of wood. The one room served for 
 kitchen; the other, now half full of straw, was 
 barn and granary, fowl-house and dove-cote, all 
 in one. "Be quick!" he called to her. Standing 
 in the house-room, he could see her head as she 
 proceeded to unload the straw. 
 
 After a few minutes she came in, her shoes clat- 
 tering on the floor. The perspiration stood in 
 great beads on her forehead, and showed how 
 little she had deserved his reproach. She took her 
 seat silently, avoiding his eyes with some care ; but 
 he thought nothing of this. It w r as no new thing. 
 It pleased him, if anything. 
 
 He liked to be feared. "Well, my Jeanne," he 
 said, in his gibing tone, "are you longing for my 
 news?" 
 
 The hand she extended towards the pitcher of 
 cider, that, with black bread and onions, made up 
 their meal, shook a little; but she answered simply, 
 "If you please, Michel." 
 
 "Well, the Girondins have got the worst of it, 
 my girl, and are flying all over the country. 
 That is the news. Your Pierre is among them, I 
 don't doubt, if he has not been killed already. I 
 wish he would come this way."
 
 332 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Why?" she asked; and as she spoke looked up 
 at last, a flash of light in her grey eyes. 
 
 "Why?" he repeated, grinning across the table 
 at her, "because he would be worth five crowns 
 to me. There is five crowns, I am told, on the 
 head of every Girondin who has been in arms, my 
 girl. Five crowns ! It is not every day we can 
 earn five crowns!" 
 
 The French Revolution, it will be understood, 
 was at its height. The more moderate and con- 
 stitutional Republicans the Girondins, as they 
 were called worsted in Paris by the Jacobins and 
 the mob, had lately tried to raise the provinces 
 against the capital, and to this end had drawn 
 together at Caen, near the border of Brittany. 
 They had been defeated, however, and the Jaco- 
 bins, in this month of August, were preparing to 
 take a fearful vengeance at once on them and on 
 the Royalists. The Reign of Terror had begun. 
 Even to such a boor as this, sitting over his 
 black bread, in his remote hovel, the Revolution 
 had come home, and, in common with many 
 a thousand others, he wondered what he could 
 make of it. 
 
 The girl did not answer, even by the look of con- 
 tempt to which he had become accustomed, and 
 for which he hated her, and for which he beat her ; 
 and he repeated, "Five crowns ! Ah, it is money, 
 that is ! Mon Dieu!" Then, with a sudden excla- 
 mation, he sprang up. "What is that?" he cried.
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 333 
 
 He had been sitting with his back to the barn, 
 but he turned, as he spoke, so as to face it. 
 Something had startled him a movement, a rus- 
 tling in the straw behind him. "What is that?" 
 he asked again, his hand on the table, his face 
 lowering and watchful. 
 
 The girl had risen also; and, as the last word 
 passed his lips, sprang by him with a low cry, 
 and aimed a frantic blow with her stool at some- 
 thing he could not see, something low, on the 
 floor. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked, recoiling. 
 
 "A rat!" she answered, breathless. And she 
 aimed another blow at it. 
 
 "Where?" he asked sharply. "Where is it?" 
 He snatched up his stool, too, and at that mo- 
 ment a rat darted out of the straw, ran nimbly 
 between his legs, and plunged into a hole by the 
 door. He flung the wooden stool after it ; but in 
 vain. "It was a rat!" he said, as if until then 
 he had doubted it. 
 
 " Thank God ! " she muttered. She was shaking 
 all over. 
 
 He stared at her in stupid wonder. What did 
 she mean? What had come to her? "Have you 
 had a sunstroke my, girl?" he said suspiciously. 
 
 Her nut-brown face was a shade less brown 
 than usual, but she met his eyes boldly. "No," 
 she said, "I am all right." And she added an ex- 
 planation that for the moment satisfied him. But
 
 334 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 he did not sit down again, and when she went 
 out he went out also. And though, as she re- 
 tired slowly to the rye fields and her work, she 
 repeatedly looked back at him, it was always to 
 find his eyes fixed upon her. When this had hap- 
 pened half a dozen times, a thought struck him. 
 "How now?" he muttered. "The rat ran out of 
 the straw! Why?" 
 
 Nevertheless he continued to gaze after her, 
 with a cunning look upon his features, until she 
 disappeared over the edge of the rift. Then he 
 crept back to the door of the barn, and stole in, 
 exchanging the sunlight for the cool darkness of 
 the raftered building, across which a dozen rays 
 of light were shooting, laden with dancing motes. 
 A pace or two from the door he stood stock still 
 until he had regained the use of his eyes; then 
 he began to peer round him. In a moment, far 
 sooner than he expected, he found what he sought. 
 Half upon, and half hidden by, the straw in the 
 furthest corner, lay a young man, in the deep 
 sleep of utter exhaustion. His face, which bore 
 traces of more than common beauty, was white 
 and pinched; his hair hung dank about his fore- 
 head. His clothes were in rags; and his feet, 
 bound up with pieces torn at random from his 
 blouse, were raw and bleeding. For a short 
 time Michel Tellier bent over him, noting these 
 things with glistening eyes. Then the peasant 
 stole out again. "It is five crowns!" he mut-
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 335 
 
 tered, blinking in the sunlight. ''Ha, ha! Five 
 crowns!" 
 
 He looked round him cautiously, but could see 
 no sign of his wife ; and after hesitating and pon- 
 dering a minute or two, he took the path for Car- 
 haix, his native astuteness leading him to saunter 
 at a slow pace after his ordinary fashion. When 
 he was gone the moorland about the cottage lay 
 still and deserted. Thrice, at intervals, the girl 
 dragged home her load of straw, but on each oc- 
 casion she seemed to linger in the barn no longer 
 than was necessary. Michel's absence, though it 
 was unlooked-for, raised no suspicion in her breast, 
 for he would frequently go down to the village to 
 spend the afternoon. The sun sank lower, and 
 the shadow of the great monolith, which, on the 
 crest of the highest point of the moor, at a dis- 
 tance of a mile, rose gaunt and black against a 
 roseate sky, grew longer and longer ; and then, as 
 twilight fell, the two coming home met a few paces 
 from the cottage. He asked so me questions about 
 the work she had been doing, and she answered 
 briefly. Then, silent and uncommunicative, they 
 went in together. The girl set the bread and 
 cider on the table, and going to the great black 
 pot which had been simmering all day upon the 
 fire, poured some broth into two pitchers. It did 
 not escape Michel's frugal eye that she was care- 
 ful to leave a little broth in the bottom of the 
 pot; and the fact induced a new feeling in him
 
 336 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 anger. When his wife invited him by a sign to 
 the meal, he went instead to the door, and fas- 
 tened it. Then he moved to the corner and picked 
 up the wood-chopper, and armed with this he 
 came back to his seat. 
 
 The girl watched his movements first with sur- 
 prise, then with secret terror. The twilight was 
 come, the cottage was almost dark, and she was 
 alone with him ; or, if not alone, yet with no one 
 near who could help her. Nevertheless she met 
 his grin of triumph bravely. "What is this?" 
 she said. "Why do you want that?" 
 
 "For the rat," he answered grimly, his eyes on 
 hers. 
 
 Her heart sank. "The rat?" she echoed. 
 
 "Ay!" 
 
 "Why not your stool?" she strove to murmur. 
 
 "Not for this rat," he answered cunningly. 
 "It might not do, my girl. Oh, I know what is 
 to do," he continued, fingering the edge of the 
 axe. "I have been down to the village, and seen 
 the mayor, and he is coming up to fetch him." 
 He nodded towards the partition, and she knew 
 that her secret was known. 
 
 "It is Pierre," she said, trembling violently, 
 and turning first crimson and then a dull sal- 
 low hue. 
 
 "I know it, Jeanne. It was excellent of you! 
 Excellent ! It is long since you have done such a 
 day's work."
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 337 
 
 "You will not give him up?" she gasped. 
 
 "My faith, I shall !" he answered, affecting, and 
 perhaps really feeling, wonder at her simplicity. 
 "He is five crowns, my girl! You do not under- 
 stand. He is worth five crowns and the risk noth- 
 ing at all." 
 
 If he had been angry, if he had shown anything 
 of the fury of the suspicious husband, if he had 
 been about to do this out of jealousy or revenge 
 or passion she would have quailed before him, 
 though she had done him no wrong, save the 
 wrong of mercy and pity. But his spirit was too 
 mean for the great passions ; he felt only the mean 
 and sordid impulses, which to a woman are the 
 most hateful. And instead of quailing, she looked 
 at him with flashing eyes. "I shall warn him," 
 she said. 
 
 "It will not help him," he answered, sitting 
 still, and feeling anew the edge of the hatchet 
 with his fingers. 
 
 "It will help him," she retorted. "He shall go. 
 He shall escape before they come." She rose im- 
 petuously from her seat. 
 
 "I have locked the door!" 
 
 "Give me the key!" she panted. "Give me the 
 key, I say !" She stood before him, her trembling 
 hands outstretched, her figure drawn to its full 
 height. Her look was such that he rose and re- 
 treated behind the table, still retaining the hatchet 
 
 in his grasp. 
 22
 
 338 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "Stand back!" he said sullenly. " You may 
 awaken him, if you please, my girl. It will not 
 avail him. Do you not understand, fool, that he 
 is worth five crowns? Five crowns? And listen I 
 It is too late now. They are here ! " 
 
 A blow fell on the door as he spoke, and he 
 stepped towards it. But at that, seeing the last 
 chance leaving her, despair moved her, she threw 
 herself upon him ; for a moment she wrestled with 
 him like a wild-cat, but in the end he prevailed; 
 he flung her off, and, brandishing his weapon in 
 her face, kept her at bay. "You vixen !" he cried, 
 retreating to the door, with a pale cheek and his 
 eyes still on her, for he was an arrant coward. 
 "You deserve to go to prison with him, you jade ! 
 I will have you in the stocks for this ! I'll have 
 you jailed !" 
 
 She leaned against the wall where he had flung 
 her, her white despairing face seeming to shine in 
 the darkness of the wretched room. Meanwhile 
 the continuous murmur of men's voices outside 
 the door could be heard mingled with the clatter 
 of weapons; the summons for admission was re- 
 peated, and again repeated, as if those without 
 had no mind to be kept waiting long. 
 
 " Patience ! patience ! I am opening ! " he cried. 
 Still keeping his face to her, he unlocked the door 
 and called on the men to enter. "He is in the 
 straw, M. le Maire !" he said, in a tone of triumph, 
 his eyes still on his wife. "Cursed Girondin ! He
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 339 
 
 will give you no trouble, I will answer it ! But 
 first give me my five crowns, M. le Maire. My 
 five crowns!" 
 
 He felt, craven as he was, so much fear of his 
 wife that he did not turn to see the men enter, 
 and he was taken by surprise when a voice at his 
 elbow a voice he did not know answered, "Five 
 crowns, my friend? For what, may I ask?" 
 
 In his eagerness and greed he suspected nothing, 
 but that on some pretext or other they were try- 
 ing to filch from him his dues. "For what? For 
 the Girondin ! " he answered rapidly. Then at last 
 he did turn and found that half a dozen men had 
 entered, that more were entering. But to his 
 astonishment, they were all strangers men with 
 stern, gloomy faces, and armed to the teeth. 
 There was something so formidable, indeed, in 
 their appearance that he stepped back, and his 
 voice faltered as he added: "But where is the 
 mayor, gentlemen? I do not see him." 
 
 No one answered, but in silence the last of the 
 men they were eleven in all entered and bolted 
 the door behind him. Michel Tellier peered at 
 them in the gloom with growing alarm, nay, with 
 growing terror. In return the tallest of the stran- 
 gers, he who had entered first and seemed to com- 
 mand the others, looked round him keenly. And 
 it was he who at length broke the silence. "So 
 you have a Girondin here, have you?" he said, 
 his voice curiously sweet and sonorous.
 
 340 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "I was to have live crowns for him/' Michel 
 muttered dubiously. 
 
 "Oh !" and then, "Petion," the spokesman con- 
 tinued to one of his companions, "can you kindle 
 a light? It strikes me that we have hit upon a 
 dark place." 
 
 The man addressed took something from his 
 pouch. For a moment there was silence, broken 
 only by the sharp sound of the flint striking the 
 steel. Then a slow-growing glare lit up the dark 
 interior, and disclosed the group of cloaked stran- 
 gers standing about the door, the light gleaming 1 
 back from their trailing sabres and great horse, 
 pistols. Michel trembled. He had never seen such 
 men as these. True, they were wet and travel- 
 stained, and had the air of those who spend their 
 nights in ditches and under haystacks. But their 
 pale, stern faces were set in indomitable resolve. 
 Their eyes glowed with a steady fire, and they trod 
 the mud floor as kings tread. Their leader was 
 a man of majestic height and stern beauty, and 
 in his eyes alone there seemed to lurk a spark of 
 lighter fire, as if his spirit still rose above the task 
 which had sobered his companions. Michel noted 
 all this in fear and bewilderment ; noted the white 
 head yet the vigorous bearing of the man who had 
 struck the light ; noted even the manner in which 
 the light died away in the dim recesses of the barn. 
 
 "And this Girondin is he in hiding here?" the 
 tall man asked.
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 341 
 
 "That is so," Michel answered. "But I had 
 nothing to do with hiding him, citizen. It was my 
 wife hid him in the straw there." 
 
 "And you gave notice of his presence to the 
 authorities?" the stranger continued, raising his 
 hand to repress some movement among his fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 "Certainly, or you would not be here," replied 
 Michel, better satisfied with himself. 
 
 The answer struck him, prostrated him. with an 
 awful terror. ' " That does not follow, ' ' the tall man 
 rejoined coolly, "for we, we, also, are Girondins !" 
 
 "You are? You?" 
 
 "Without doubt," the other answered, with 
 majestic simplicity ; "or there are no such persons. 
 This is Petion of Paris, and this citizen Buzot. 
 Have you heard of Louvet? There he stands. 
 For me, I am Barbaroux." 
 
 Michel's tongue remained glued to the roof of his 
 mouth. He could not utter a word. But another 
 could. On the far side of the barrier a rustling 
 was heard, and while all turned to look but with 
 what different feelings the pale face of the youth 
 over whom Michel had bent in the afternoon ap- 
 peared above the partition. A smile of joyful 
 recognition effaced for the time the lines of ex- 
 haustion. The young man, clinging for support 
 to the planks, uttered a cry of thankfulness. "It 
 is you ! It is really you ! You are safe ! " he ex- 
 claimed. Love beamed in his eyes.
 
 342 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 "We are safe, all of us, Pierre," Barbaroux 
 answered. "And now" he turned to Michel Tel- 
 lier with thunder in his voice "know that this 
 man whom you would have betrayed is our guide, 
 whom we lost last night. Speak, then, in your 
 defence, if you can. Say what you have to say 
 why justice should not be done upon you, miser- 
 able caitiff, who would have sold a man's life, as 
 you would sell a sheep's, for a few pieces of silver ! " 
 
 The wretched peasant's knees trembled under 
 him; the perspiration stood upon his brow. He 
 heard the voice as the voice of a judge or an exe- 
 cuti ner. He looked in the stern eyes of the 
 Girondins, and read only anger, doom, vengeance. 
 Then he caught in the silence the sound of his wife 
 weeping, for at Pierre's appearance she had broken 
 into wild sobbing; and on that he spoke out of 
 the base instincts of his heart. "He was her 
 lover," he muttered. "I swear it, citizens." 
 
 " He lies !" the man at the barrier cried, his face 
 transfigured with rage. "I loved her once, it is 
 true, but it was before her old father sold her to 
 this Judas. For what he would have you believe 
 now, my friends, it is false. I, too, swear it." 
 
 A murmur of execration broke from the group of 
 Girondins. Barbaroux repressed it by a gesture. 
 "What do you say of this man?" he asked, turn- 
 ing to them, his tone deep and solemn. 
 
 " He is not fit to live !" they answered with one 
 voice.
 
 IN THE NAME OP THE LAW 343 
 
 The poor coward screamed as he heard the 
 words, and, flinging himself on the ground, he 
 embraced Barbaroux's knees in a paroxysm of 
 terror. But the judge did not look at him. Bar- 
 baroux turned, instead, to Pierre Bounat. " What 
 do you say of him?" he asked. 
 
 "He is not fit to live," the young man answered 
 solemnly, his breath coming quick and fast. 
 
 "And you?" Barbaroux continued, turning and 
 looking with eyes of fire at the wife. And his voice 
 was still more solemn. 
 
 A moment before she had ceased to weep, and 
 had stood up listening and gazing, awe and won- 
 der in her face. Barbaroux had to repeat his 
 question before she answered. Then she said, 
 "He is not fit to die." 
 
 There was silence for a moment, broken only by 
 the entreaties, the prayers, of the wretch on the 
 floor. At last Barbaroux spoke. "She has said 
 rightly," he pronounced. "He shall live. They 
 have put us out of the law and set a price on our 
 heads; but we will keep the law. He shall live. 
 Yet, hark you," the great orator continued, in 
 tones which Michel never forgot, "if a whisper 
 escape you as to our presence here, or as to our 
 names, or if you wrong your wife from this time 
 forth by word or deed, the life she has saved shall 
 pay for it. 
 
 " Remember !" he added, shaking Michel to and 
 fro with a finger, "the arm of Barbaroux of
 
 344 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 Marseilles is long, and though I be a hundred 
 leagues away, I shall know and I shall punish. 
 So, beware! Now rise, and live!" 
 
 The miserable man cowered back to the wall, 
 frightened to the core of his heart. The Girondins 
 conferred a while in whispers, two of their number 
 assisting Pierre to cross the barrier. Suddenly on 
 their talk there broke and Michel trembled anew 
 as he heard it a loud knocking at the door. All 
 started and stood listening and waiting. A voice 
 cried : " Open ! open ! in the name of the law !" 
 
 "We have lingered too long," Barbaroux mut- 
 tered. "I should have thought of this. It is the 
 Mayor of Carhaix come to apprehend our friend." 
 
 Again the Girondins conferred together. At 
 last, seeming to arrive at a conclusion, they 
 ranged themselves on either side of the door, and 
 one of their number opened it. A short, stout 
 man, girt with a tricolour sash, and wearing a 
 huge sword, entered with an air of authority. 
 Blinded by the gush of light he saw, at his first 
 entrance, nothing out of the common; he was 
 followed by four men armed with muskets. 
 
 Their appearance produced an extraordinary 
 effect on Michel Tellier. As they crossed the 
 threshold one by one, the peasant leaned forward, 
 his face flushed, his eyes gleaming ; and he counted 
 them. They were only five. And the others were 
 twelve. He fell back, and from that moment his 
 belief in the Girondins' power was clinched.
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 345 
 
 "In the name of the law!" the mayor panted. 
 He was a little out of breath. "Why did you 
 
 not " Then he stopped abruptly, his mouth 
 
 remaining open. He found himself surrounded by 
 a group of grim, silent mutes, with arms in their 
 hands ; and in a twinkling it flashed into his mind 
 that these were the eleven chiefs of the Girondins, 
 whom he had been warned to keep watch for, and 
 to take. He had come to catch a pigeon and had 
 caught a crow. He turned pale and his eyes 
 dropped. "Who are who are these gentlemen?" 
 he stammered, in a tone suddenly and ludicrously 
 fallen. 
 
 "Some volunteers of Quimper, returning home," 
 replied Barbaroux, with ironical smoothness. 
 
 "You have your papers, citizens?" the mayor 
 asked, mechanically; and he took a step back- 
 wards towards the door, and looked over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Here they are !" said Petion rudely, thrusting 
 a packet into his hands. "They are in order." 
 
 The mayor took them, and longing only to see 
 the outside of the door, pretended to look through 
 them, his little heart going pit-a-pat within him. 
 "They seem to be in order," he assented, feebly. 
 "I need not trouble you further, citizens. I came 
 here under a misapprehension, I find, and I wish 
 you a good journey." 
 
 He knew, as he backed out, that he was cutting 
 a poor figure. And he would fain have made a
 
 346 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 more dignified retreat. But before these men, 
 fugitives and outlaws as they were, he felt, though 
 he was Mayor of Carhaix, almost as small a man 
 as did Michel Tellier. These were the men of the 
 Kevolution, nay, they were the Revolution. They 
 had bearded Capet, they had shattered the regime 
 of centuries, they had pulled down kings. There 
 was Barbaroux, who had grappled with Marat; 
 and Petion, the Mayor of the Bastille. The little 
 Mayor of Carhaix knew greatness when he saw it. 
 He turned tail, and hurried back to his fireside, 
 his body-guard not a whit behind him in their 
 desire to be gone. 
 
 Five minutes later the men he feared and envied 
 came out also, and went their way, passing in 
 single file into the darkness which brooded over 
 the great monolith; beginning, brave hearts, an- 
 other of the few stages which still lay between 
 them and the guillotine. Then in the cottage there 
 remained only Michel and Jeanne. She sat by the 
 dying embers, silent, and lost in thought. He 
 leaned against the wall, his eyes roving ceaselessly, 
 but always when his gaze met hers it fell. Bar- 
 baroux had conquered him. It was not until 
 Jeanne had risen to close the door, and he was 
 alone, that he wrung his hands, and muttered : 
 " Five crowns ! Five crowns gone and wasted ! " 
 
 THE END
 
 UNDER THE RED ROBE, 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "THE HOUSE OF THE woL,"re 
 
 With 1 2 Pull-page Illustrations by R. Caton Woodvllle. 
 1 2mo, Linen Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman is a brave writer, who imagines fine things and describes them 
 Splendidly. There is something to interest a healthy mind on every page of his new 
 .-story. Its interest never flags, for his resource is rich, and it is, moreover, the kind of 
 story that one cannot plainly see the end of from Chapter I. ... the story reveals 
 knowledge of French character and French landscape that was surely never ac- 
 'Uired at second hand. The beginning is wonderfully interesting." NEW YORK TIMES. 
 
 " As perfect a novel of the new school of fiction as ' Ivanhoe ' or ' Henry Esmond ' 
 j<?as of theirs. Each later story has shown a marked advance in strength and treat- 
 ment, and in the last Mr. Weyman . . . demonstrates that he has no superior 
 among living novelists. . . . There are but two characters in the story his art 
 makes all other but unnoticed shadows cast by them and the attention is so keenly 
 fixed upon one or both, from the first word to the last, that we live in their thoughts 
 and see the drama unfolded through their eyes." N. Y. WORLD. ^ 
 
 " It was bold to take Richelieu and his time as a subject and thus to challenge com- 
 parison with Dumas's immortal musketeers; but the result justifies the boldness. . . . 
 The plot is admirably clear and strong, the diction singularly concise and telling, and 
 the stirring events are so managed as not to degenerate into sensationalism. Few 
 better novels of adventure than this have ever been written." OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 " A wonderfully brilliant and thrilling romance. . . . Mr. Weyman has a positive 
 talent for concise dramatic narration. Every phrase tells, and the characters stand 
 out with life-like distinctness. Some of the most fascinating epochs in French history 
 have been splendidly illuminated by his novels, which are to be reckoned among the 
 notable successes of later nineteenth-century fiction. This story of' Under the Red 
 Robe ' is in its way one of the very best things he has done. It is illustrated with 
 vigor and appropriateness from twelve full-page designs by R. Caton Woodville." 
 
 BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " It is a skillfully drawn picture of the times, drawn in simple and transparent 
 English, and quivering with tense human feeling from the first word to the last. It is 
 not a book that can be laid down at the middle of it. The reader once caught in its 
 whirl can no more escape from it than a ship from the maelstrom." 
 
 PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " The ' red robe ' refers to Cardinal Richelieu, in whose day the story is laid, 
 The descriptions of his court, his jud'cial machinations and ministrations, his partial 
 defeat, stand out from the book as vivid as flame against a background of snow. For 
 the rest, the book is clever and interesting, ana overflowing with heroic incident. 
 Stanley Weyman is an author who has apparently come to stay." CHICAGO POST. 
 
 " In this story Mr. Weyman returns to the scene of his ' Gentleman of France,' 
 although his new heroes are of different mould. The book is full of adventure and 
 characterized by a deeper study of character than its predecessor." 
 
 WASHINGTON POST. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman has quite topped his first success. . . . The author artfully 
 pursues the line on which his happy initial venture was laid. We have in Berault, the 
 hero, a more impressive Marsac ; an accomplished duelist, telling the tale of his own 
 adventures, he first repels and finally attracts us. He is at once the tool of Richelieu, 
 and a man of honor. Here is a noteworthy romance, full of thrilling incident set down 
 by a master-hand." PHILADELPHIA PRESS. 
 
 GEEEST. & 00., 91-98 HPTH ATE., K3W YOBS,
 
 THE RED COCKADE. 
 
 A NOVEL OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 IOTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," " UNDER THE RED RO*5," " THE HOUSE Of 
 THE WOLF," " MY LADY ROTHA," ETC. 
 
 With 48 Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville. Crown 8vo. 
 Cloth, ornamental, $ 1 .50. 
 
 * Deserves a place among the bast historical fiction of the latter part of this century. 
 . . The gradual maddening of the people by agitators, the rising of those who have re- 
 venges to feed, the burnings and the outrages are described in a masterly way. The attack 
 ?n the castle of St. Alais, the hideous death of the steward, the looting of the great building, 
 j.nd the escape of the young lovers these incidents are told in that breathless way which 
 Veyman has made familiar in other stories. It is only when one has finished the book and 
 das gone back to reread certain passages that the dramatic power and the sustained passion 
 of these scenes are clearly felt." SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE. 
 
 " 'The Red Cockade,' a story of the French Revolution, shows, in the first place, care- 
 ful study and deliberate, well-directed effort Mr. Weyman . . . has caught the spirit 
 sf the times. . . . The book is brimful of romantic incidents. It absorbs one's interest 
 from the first page to the last; it depicts human character with truth, and it causes the good 
 snd brave to triumph. In a word, it is real romance." SYRACUSE POST. 
 
 '" We have in this novel a powerful but not an exaggerated study of the spirit of the high 
 born and the low born which centuries of aristocratic tyranny and democratic suffering en- 
 gendered in France. It is history which we read here, and not romance, but history which 
 is so perfectly written, so veritable, that it blends with the romantic associations in which it 
 is set as naturally as the history in Shakespeare's plays blends with the poetry which vital- 
 izes and glorifies it." MAIL AND EXPRESS, NEW YORK. 
 
 " It will be scarcely more than its due to say that this will always rank among Weyman's 
 'best work. In the troublous times of 1789 in France its action is laid, and with marvellous 
 skill the author has delineated the most striking types of men and women who made the Rev- 
 olution so terrible." NEW YORK WORLD. 
 
 " * The Red Cockade ' is a novel of events, instinct with the spirit of the eighteenth cen- 
 'Miy and full of stirring romance. The tragic period of the French Revolution forms a frame 
 sn which to set the adventures of Adrien du Pont, Vicomte de Saux, and the part he plays 
 m those days of peril has a full measure of dramatic interest. . . . Mr. Weyman has 
 evidently studied the history of the revolution with a profound realization of its intense 
 a-agedy." DETROIT FREE PRESS. 
 
 ery 1 ----------------- _. . 
 
 background is made vivid and convincing the frenzy caused by the fall of the Bastile, the 
 
 Ban do." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 "The story gives a view of the times which is apart from the usual, and marked with a 
 Sae study of history and of human conditions and impulse on Mr. Weyman s part. Regard- 
 ing his varied and well-chosen characters one cares only to say that they are full of interest 
 and admirably portrayed. . . . It is one of the most spirited stones of the hour, and one 
 *ff tae most delightfully freighted with suggestion." CHICAGO INTERIOR. 
 
 With so striking a character for his hero, it is not wonderful _ that Mr. Weyman has 
 fcrohred a story that for ingenuity of plot and felicity of treatment is equal to some of his 
 %est efforts. . . . 'The Red Cockade ' is one of the unmistakably strong historical ro, 
 nances of the season. " BOSTON HERALD. 
 
 "We are greatly mistaken if the ' Red Cockade' does not take rank wi*h tt* rag 
 S*t book that Mr. Weyman has written." SCOTSMAN. 
 
 fc 00.. pi. 93 riFTE AVE., NEW YOKK
 
 SOPHIA 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF " A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," " UNDER THE RED ROBE," ETC. 
 
 With 12 Illustrations by C. Hammond. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 ornamental, $1.50. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman's new romance illustrates the types and manners of fashion- 
 able London society in the year 1742. In everything that means the revival of 
 an historical atmosphere it is skilful, and, on the whole, just. The characters 
 also are well realized. . . . ' Sophia ' is a decidedly interesting novel. . . . 
 The tale moves swiftly, hurrying on from the town to the heath, from hatred to 
 love, from imprisonment on bread and water to diamonds . . . and a dozen 
 otherthings. Sophia, the heroine, is a bundle of girlish foolishness and charms. 
 'Sophia,' the book, is a bundle of more or less extraordinary episodes woven 
 into a story in the most beguiling manner." NEW YORK TRIBUNE, April, 1900. 
 
 " It is a good, lively, melodramatic story of love and adventure . . . it is 
 safe to say that nobody who reads the lively episode in the first chapter will 
 leave the book unfinished, because there is not a moment's break in the swift 
 and dramatic narrative until the last page. . . . The dramatic sequence is 
 nearly faultless." TRIBUNE, CHICAGO. 
 
 ' Sophia, with her mistakes, her adventures, and her final surrender; Sophia 
 moving among the eighteenth century world of fashion at Vauxhall; Sophia fly- 
 ing through the country roads, pursued by an adventurer, and Sophia captured 
 by her husband, transport one so far from this work-a-day life that the reader 
 comes back surprised to find that this prosaic world is still here after that too- 
 brief excursion into the realm of fancy." 
 
 NEW YORK COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER. 
 
 "The gem of the book is its description of the long coach-ride made by 
 Sophia to Sir Hervey's home in Sussex, the attempt made by highwaymen to 
 rob her, and her adventures at the paved ford and in the house made silent by 
 smallpox, where she took refuge. This section of the story is almost as breath- 
 less as Smollett. ... In the general firmness of touch, and sureness of 
 historic portrayal, the book deserves high praise." BUFFALO EXPRESS. 
 
 " ' Sophia ' contains, in its earlier part, a series of incidents that is, we believe, 
 the most ingenious yet planned by its author. . . . The adventure develops 
 and grows, the tension increases with each page, to such an extent that the 
 hackneyed adjective, ' breathless,' finds an appropriate place." 
 
 NEW YORK MAIL AND EXPRESS. 
 
 " ' Sophia,' his latest, is also one of his best. A delightful spirit of adventure 
 hangs about the story; something interesting happens in every chapter. The 
 admirable ease of style, the smooth and natural dialogue, the perfect adjust- 
 ment of events and sequences conceal all the usual obtrusive mechanism, and 
 hold the curiosity of the reader throughout the development of an excellent plot 
 and genuine people." PUBLIC LEDGER, PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 "Those who read Mr. Stanley J. Weyman's 'Castle Inn' with delight, will 
 find in his ' Sophia ' an equally brilliant performance, in which they are intro- 
 duced to another part of the Georgian era. . . . Mr. Wey man knows the 
 eighteenth century from top to bottom, and could any time be more suitable 
 for the writer of romance ? . . . There is only one way to define the subtle 
 charm and distinction of this book, and that is to say that it deserves a place on 
 the book -shelf beside those dainty volumes in which Mr. Austin Dobson has em- 
 balmed the very spirit of the period of the hoop and the patch, the coffee-house, 
 and the sedan chair. And could Mr. Stanley Weyman ask for better company 
 for his books than that ? "EVENING SUN, NEW YORK. 
 
 " Contains what is probably the most ingenious and exciting situation even 
 he has ever invented.* BOOK BUYER, NEW YORK. 
 
 LONGMANS, GBEEN. & 00., 91-83 PIPTH AVE., NEW YOEK.
 
 THE CASTLE INN, 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "UNDER THE RED ROBE,*' 
 " SHREWSBURY," ETC., ETC. 
 
 With ix full-page Illustrations by Walter Appleton Clark. 
 Crown Svo, Cloth, ornamental, $ 1 .50. 
 
 'n. vole which is full of old-world romance and adventure. It has a strong flavoi 
 of the under life in England when George the Third was young, when sign-posts 
 served also as gibbets, when travel was by coach and highwaymen were many, when 
 men drank deep and played high. There are plenty of stirring scenes along the way, 
 plenty of treachery and fighting at cross-purposes which lead to intricate and dramatic 
 situations. The heroine's charms recall Mile, de Cochefpret in ' Under the Red Robe,' 
 and she proves herself a iraid of spirit through all the mishaps which befall her. One 
 of the most notable things about ' The Castle Inn ' is the way in which Mr. Weyman 
 has caught the spirit of the age, and manages to imbue his readers with its feeling." 
 
 DETROIT FREE PRESS. 
 
 " . . . . In 'The Castle Inn,' this master of romance tells a story of the time 
 of George HI. in the third person. ... A story of rapid action, with a swinging 
 succession of moving incidents that keep the reader incessantly on the quivive. It 
 deals with human emotions with directness and thoughtfulness." 
 
 THE PRESS, PHILA., PA. 
 
 " . . . ' The Castle Inn ' ... is so fresh and entertaining that it takes one 
 back to 'A Gentleman of France,' and other good things this author did several years 
 ago. Mr. Weyman, in looking about for an appropriate setting for his romance, very 
 wisely eschews scenes and people of to-day, and chooses, instead, England a hundred 
 and thirty years ago, when George III. was on her throne, and living was a far more 
 picturesque business than it is now. Beautiful maidens could be kidnapped then; 
 daring lovers faced pistols and swords in behalf of their sweethearts, and altogether 
 the pace was a lively one. Mr. Weyman knows how to use the attractive colorings to 
 the best advantage possible." CHICAGO EVENING POST. 
 
 "... a piece of work which is infinitely better than anything else which he 
 has accomplished. He has treated the eighteenth century, the time of the elder Pitt, 
 with a grasp and a sympathy that presage a greater reputation for this novelist than 
 he has enjoyed hitherto. The story itself is worth the telling, but the great thing is 
 the way it is told." NEW YORK SUN. 
 
 "... he has a firm grasp of his period in this book, and revives the atmos- 
 phere of the last century in England, with its shallow graces and profound brutality, 
 coherently and even with eloquence . . . it is a most interesting story, which 
 should please the reader of romantic tastes and sustain the author's reputation." 
 
 NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 "The characters in the book are all entertaining, and many of them are droll, 
 while a few, like the conscientious Mr. Fishwick, the attorney, and the cringing 
 parasite. Mr. Thomasson, are, in their own way, masterpieces of character study. 
 Take it all in all, ' The Castle Inn ' is in many ways the best work which has yet come 
 from Mr. Weyman's pen." COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, NEW YORK. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman has surpassed himself in ' The Castle Inn.' From coyer to cover 
 the book teems with adventure and romance, and the love episode is delicious. Julia 
 will live as one of the most graceful heroines in the literature of pur time. . . . 
 We get an excellent idea of the doings of fashionable society in the time when George 
 III. was young, and altogether the volume can be heartily recommended as the besi, 
 thing that Weyman has done, and, in the opinion of one, at least, the most fascinating 
 book of the season." HOME JOURNAL, NEW YORK. 
 
 LONGMANS, GBEEN, & CO., 91-93 PEFTH AVE, NEW TOBK.
 
 COUNT HANNIBAL 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE COURT OF FRANCE 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OK "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "UNDER THE RED ROBK," 
 "THE CASTLE INN," ETC., ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $ 1 .50 
 
 "It is very seldom that one runs across a historical novel the plot of which is 
 so ably sustained, the characters so strongly drawn, the local color or atmosphere 
 so satisfactory. . . . ' Count Hannibal ' is the strongest and most interest- 
 ing novel as yet written by this popular author." BOSTON TIMES. 
 
 " Stanley J. Weyman has had hundreds of imitators since he wrote ' A Gen- 
 tleman of France,' but no man has yet surpassed him. I know of no book in 
 the whole list of popular favorites that holds one's interest more intensely or 
 more continuously than ' Count Hannibal ' does. And what an insistent, throat- 
 gripping interest it is ! 
 
 What is the use of hoping for a decadence of the craze for historical 
 romances so long as the public is fed on books like this ? Such a story has zest 
 for the most jaded palate ; nay, it can hold the interest even of a book reviewer. 
 From the first page to the last there is not a moment when one's desire to finish 
 the book weakens. Along with the ordinary interest of curiosity there goes that 
 of a delightful and unique love story involving no little skill in character deline- 
 ation. " RECORD- HERALD, CHICAGO. 
 
 " A spirited, tersely interesting and most vivid story of scenes and incidents 
 and portrayals of various characters that lived and fought and bled in the lurid 
 days that saw the massacre of St. Bartholomew. . . . This is Mr. Weyman's 
 most graphic and realistic novel. " PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman has surpassed himself in 'Count Hannibal.' The scene of 
 the story is laid chiefly in Paris, at the time of the massacre of St. Bartholo- 
 mew. . . . We are made to grasp the soul of Count Hannibal and are tacitly 
 asked to let its envelope take care of itself. . . . Never has Mr. Weyman 
 achieved, in fact, a higher degree of verisimilitude. Count Hannibal may leave 
 us breathless with his despotic methods, but he is not abnormal ; he is one of the 
 Frenchmen who shared the temper which made the St. Bartholomew, and he is in- 
 tensely human too . . . how the tangle of events in which he and half a 
 dozen others are involved is straightened out we refrain from disclosing. The 
 reader who once takes up this book will want to find all this out for himself " 
 
 NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 "A story in Mr. Weyman's best vein, with the crimson horror of St. Bar- 
 tholomew as an historical setting. Count Hannibal ' is a worthy companion of 
 ' A Gentleman of France' and ' The Red Cockade,' and Mr. Weyman's hand is 
 as cunning as ever in fashioning a romance which will send a thrill through the 
 most jaded reader and keep even a reviewer from his bed." 
 
 BOOKMAN, LONDON. 
 
 " The book is rapid, is absorbing, and the hero is a distinctly interesting 
 character in himself, apart from his deeds of daring. " ATHRN.*UM. 
 
 " Mr. Stanley Weyman's ' Count Hannibal ' is fully worthy of his great repu- 
 tation the style is brilliant, easy and clear ; the invention of subject and the 
 turns of fortune in the story surprising ; above all, the subtle painting of a man 
 and a woman's heart is done with inexhaustible knowledge." GUARDIAN. 
 
 " A picturesque and vigorous romance. The narrative will be followed with 
 breathless interest. " TIMES, LONDON. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00,, 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK.
 
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