INEMYTO 
 HE KINGW 
 
 RQBERT-NEILSQN-STEPHENS
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 University of 
 
 IRVINE,
 
 Works of 
 
 ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 An Enemy to the King 
 
 (Twenty-ninth Thousand) 
 
 The Continental Dragoon 
 
 (Seventeenth Thousand) 
 
 The Road to Paris 
 
 (Sixteenth Thousand) 
 
 A Gentleman Player 
 
 (Thirty-fifth Thousand) 
 
 Philip Winwood 
 
 (Sixtieth Thousand) 
 
 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY, Publishers 
 
 (Incorporated) 
 200 Summer St., Boston, Mass.
 
 LET THE LION LOOK TO HIMSELF.' "
 
 "No. 1. Jleur tie ilig iLiftratg 
 AN 
 
 ENEMY TO THE KING 
 
 tlje Eecentlg JBtscoberefc 
 fflnnotts of tijc Sieut Ue la 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT NE1LSON STEPHENS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "PHILIP WINWOOD," "THE CONTINENTAL 
 
 DRAGOON," " THE ROAD TO PARIS," " A 
 
 GENTLEMAN PLAYER," ETC. 
 
 Illustrates tig 
 H. DEM. YOUNG 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 1900
 
 PS 
 
 All 9 
 
 5 
 
 Copyright, 1897 
 
 BY L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Colonial 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
 Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Two ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT ... 9 
 
 II. LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE . 36 
 
 III. THE STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. o'A- 
 
 RENCY 60 
 
 IV. How LA TOURNOIRE WAS ENLIGHTENED 
 
 IN THE DARK 87 
 
 V. How LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED FROM PARIS in 
 VI. How HE FLED SOUTHWARD . . .137 
 VII. How HE ANNOYED MONSIEUR DE LA 
 
 CHATRE 166 
 
 VIII. A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS . . .188 
 
 IX. THE FOUR RASCALS 219 
 
 X. A DISAPPEARANCE 244 
 
 XI. How THE HERO GAVE His WORD AND 
 
 KEPT IT 265 
 
 XII. AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY . . . 295 
 
 XIII. How DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH . . 322 
 
 XIV. " GOD GRANT I Do NOT FIND You FALSE" 344 
 XV. To CLOCHONNE, AFTER MADEMOISELLE! . 364 
 
 XVI. BEHIND THE CURTAINS , . . . . 390 
 
 XVII. SWORD AND DAGGER . . . . .415 
 
 XVIII. THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE . . . 440
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 E. H. SOTHERN AS "LA TouRNOlRE " . Frontispiece 
 
 " WITH A LOUD OATH HE REINED BACK HIS HORSE " . 65 
 "I TOOK OFF MY SWORD AND DAGGER" . . .125 
 
 " ' LET US ARGUE THE MATTER, MONSIEUR ! '" . . 208 
 
 " ' I PROMISED YOU LA TOURNOIRE UNARMED. BE 
 HOLD HIM!'" ....... 293 
 
 " I WOULD HAVE LOVE FOR LOVE ' " . . . .324 
 
 " ' CLOCHONNE ! LA CHATRE ! MADEMOISELLE ! ' I 
 
 MURMURED" 358 
 
 " ARE WE IN TIME, MY CAPTAIN ? ' " . . . . 439
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 
 
 HITHERTO I have written with the sword, after 
 the fashion of greater men, and requiring no secre 
 tary. I now take up the quill to set forth, correctly, 
 certain incidents which, having been noised about, 
 stand in danger of being inaccurately reported by 
 some imitator of Brantome and De 1'Estoile. If all 
 the world is to know of this matter, let it know 
 thereof rightly. 
 
 It was early in January, in the year 1578, that 
 I first set out for Paris. My mother had died when I 
 was twelve years old, and my father had followed 
 her a year later. It was his last wish that I, his 
 only child, should remain at the chateau, in Anjou, 
 continuing my studies until the end of my twenty- 
 first year. He had chosen that I should learn man- 
 
 9 '
 
 IO AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 ners as best I could at home, not as page in some 
 great household or as gentleman in the retinue of 
 some high personage. " A De Launay shall have 
 no master but God and the King," he said. Rever 
 ently I had fulfilled his injunctions, holding my 
 young impulses in leash. I passed the time in 
 sword practice with our old steward, Michel, who 
 had followed my father in the wars under Coligny, 
 in hunting in our little patch of woods, reading the 
 Latin authors in the flowery garden of the chateau, 
 or in my favorite chamber, that one at the top of 
 the new tower which had been built in the reign 
 of Henri II. to replace the original black tower from 
 which the earliest De Launay of note got the title 
 of Sieur de la Tournoire. All this while I was hold 
 ing in curb my impatient desires. So almost resist 
 less are the forces that impel the young heart, that 
 there must have been a hard struggle within me had 
 I had to wait even a month longer for the birthday 
 which finally set me free to go what ways I chose. 
 I rose early on that cold but sunlit January day, mad 
 with eagerness to be off and away into the great 
 world that at last lay open to me. Poor old Michel 
 was sad that I had decided to go alone. But the 
 only servant whom I would have taken with me was 
 the only one to whom I would entrust the house of 
 my fathers in my absence, old Michel himself. I 
 thought the others too rustic. My few tenants
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. II 
 
 would have made awkward lackeys in peace, sorry 
 soldiers in war. 
 
 Michel had my portmanteau fastened on my horse, 
 which had been brought out into the courtyard, and 
 then he stood by me while I took my last breakfast 
 in La Tournoire ; and, in my haste to be off, I would 
 have eaten little had he not pressed much upon me, 
 reminding me how many leagues I would have to 
 ride before meeting a good inn on the Paris road. 
 He was sad, poor old Michel, at my going, and yet 
 he partook of some of my own eagerness. At last 
 I had forced down my unwilling throat food enough 
 to satisfy even old Michel's solicitude. He girded 
 on me the finest of the swords that my father had 
 left, placed over my violet velvet doublet the new 
 cloak I had bought for the occasion, handed me my 
 new hat with its showy plumes, and stood aside for 
 me to pass out. In the pocket of my red breeches 
 was a purse holding enough golden crowns to ease 
 my path for some time to come. I cast one last 
 look around the old hall and, trying to check the 
 rapidity of my breath, and the rising of the lump 
 in my throat, strode out to the court-yard, breathed 
 the fresh air with a new ecstasy, mounted the 
 steaming horse, gave Michel my hand for a moment, 
 and, purposely avoiding meeting his eyes, spoke a last 
 kind word to the old man. After acknowledging 
 the farewells of the other servants, who stood in
 
 12 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 line trying to look joyous, I started my horse with 
 a little jerk of the rein, and was borne swiftly 
 through the porte, over the bridge, and out into the 
 world. Behind me was the home of my fathers 
 and my childhood ; before me was Paris. It was 
 a fine, bracing winter morning, and I was twenty- 
 one. A good horse was under me, a sword was 
 at my side, there was money in my pocket. Will I 
 ever feel again as I did that morning ? 
 
 Some have stupidly wondered why, being a Hugue 
 not born and bred, I did not, when free to leave La 
 Tournoire, go at once to offer my sword to Henri of 
 Navarre or to some other leader of our party. This 
 is easily answered. If I was a Huguenot, I was 
 also a man of twenty-one ; and the latter much more 
 than the former. Paris was the centre of the world. 
 There was the court, there were the adventures to 
 be had, there must one go to see the whole of life ; 
 there would I meet men and make conquests of 
 women. There awaited me the pleasures of which 
 I had known only by report, there the advancement, 
 the triumphs in personal quarrels ; and, above all else, 
 the great love affair of my dreams. Who that is 
 a man and twenty-one has not such dreams ? And 
 who that is a man and seventy would have , been 
 without them ? Youth and folly go together, each 
 sweetening the other. The greatest fool, I think, 
 is he who would have gone through life entirely
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 13 
 
 
 
 without folly. What then mattered religion to me ? 
 Or what mattered the rivalry of parties, except as 
 they might serve my own personal ambitions and 
 desires ? Youth was ebullient in me. The longing 
 to penetrate the unknown made inaction intolerable 
 to me. I must rush into the whirlpool ; I must be 
 in the very midst of things ; I longed for gaiety, 
 for mystery, for contest ; I must sing, drink, fight, 
 make love. It is true that there would have been 
 some outlet for my energies in camp life, but no 
 gratification for my finer tastes, no luxury, no such 
 pleasures as Paris afforded, little diversity, no elat 
 ing sense of being at the core of events, no opportu 
 nities for love-making. In Paris were the pretty 
 women. The last circumstance alone would have 
 decided me. 
 
 I had reached twenty-one without having been 
 deeply in love. I had, of course, had transient 
 periods of inclination towards more than one of the 
 demoiselles in the neighborhood of. La Tournoire; 
 but these demoiselles had rapidly become insipid 
 to me. As I grew older, I found it less easy to be 
 attracted by young ladies whom I had known from 
 childhood up. I had none the less the desire to be 
 in love; but the woman whom I should love must 
 be new to me, a mystery, something to fathom and 
 yet unfathomable. She must be a world, inexhaust 
 ible, always retaining the charm of the partly un-
 
 14 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 known. I had high aspirations. No pretty maid, 
 however low in station, was unworthy a kiss and 
 some flattery ; but the real affaire d" amour of my 
 life must have no elements but magnificent ones. 
 She must be some great lady of the court, and our 
 passion must be attended by circumstances of mys 
 tery, danger, everything to complicate it and raise 
 it to an epic height. Such was the amour I had 
 determined to find in Paris. Remember, you who 
 read this, that I am disclosing the inmost dreams 
 of a man of twenty-one. Such dreams are appropri 
 ate to that age ; it is only when they are associated 
 with middle age that they become ridiculous ; and 
 when thoughts of amatory conquest are found 
 in common with gray hairs, they are loathsome. 
 If I seem to have given my mind largely up to 
 fancies of love, consider that I was then at the age 
 when such fancies rather adorn than deface. Indeed, 
 a young man without thoughts of love is as much an 
 anomaly as is an older man who gives himself up to 
 them. 
 
 I looked back once at La Tournoire, when I 
 reached the top of the hill that would, in another 
 minute, shut it from my view. I saw old Michel 
 standing at the porte. I waved my hand to him, and 
 turned to proceed on my way. Soon the lump in my 
 throat melted away, the moisture left my eyes, and 
 only the future concerned me. Every object that
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. I 5 
 
 came into sight, every tree along the roadside, now 
 interested me. I passed several travellers, some of 
 whom seemed to envy me my indifference to the cold 
 weather, my look of joyous content. 
 
 About noon I overtook, just where the road left a 
 wood and turned to cross a bridge, a small cavalcade 
 consisting of an erect, handsome gentleman of middle 
 age, and several armed lackeys. The gentleman wore 
 a black velvet doublet, and his attire, from his snowy 
 ruff to his black boots, was in the best condition. 
 He had a frank, manly countenance that invited 
 address. At the turn of the road he saw me, and, 
 taking me in at a glance, he fell behind his lackeys 
 that I might come up to him. He greeted me cour 
 teously, and after he had spoken of the weather and 
 the promise of the sky, he mentioned, incidentally, 
 that he was going to Paris. I told him my own 
 destination, and we came to talking of the court. 
 I perceived, from his remarks, that he was well 
 acquainted there. There was some talk of the quar 
 rels between the King's favorites and those of his 
 brother, the Duke of Anjou ; of the latter's sulki- 
 ness over his treatment at the hands of the King ; of 
 the probabilities for and against Anjou's leaving 
 Paris and putting himself at the head of the mal 
 content and Huguenot parties ; of the friendship 
 between Anjou and his sister Marguerite, who re 
 mained at the Court of France while her husband,
 
 1 6 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Henri of Navarre, held his mimic Huguenot court in 
 Barn. Presently, the name of the Duke of Guise 
 came up. 
 
 Now we Huguenots held, and still hold, Henri de 
 Guise to have been a chief instigator of the event of 
 St. Bartholomew's Night, in 1572. Always I had in 
 my mind the picture of Coligny, under whom my 
 father had fought, lying dead in his own courtyard, 
 in the Rue de Bethizy, his murder done under the 
 direction of that same Henri, his body thrown from 
 his window into the court at Henri's orders, and 
 there spurned by Henri's foot. I had heard, too, 
 of this illustrious duke's open continuance of his 
 amour with Marguerite, queen of our leader, Henri of 
 Navarre. When I spoke of him to the gentleman at 
 whose side I rode, I put no restraint on my tongue. 
 
 " The Duke of Guise ! " I said. " All that I ever 
 wish to say of him can be very quickly spoken. If, 
 as you Catholics believe, God has an earthly repre 
 sentative in the Pope, then I think the devil has one 
 in Henri de Guise." 
 
 The gentleman was quiet for a moment, and looked 
 very sober. Then he said gravely : 
 
 " All men have their faults, monsieur. The differ 
 ence between men is that some have no virtues to 
 compensate for their vices." 
 
 " If Henri de Guise has any virtues," I replied, 
 " he wears a mask over them ; and he conceals
 
 T WO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 17 
 
 them more effectually than he hides his predilection 
 for assassination, his amours, and his design to rule 
 France through the Holy League of which he is the 
 real head." 
 
 The gentleman turned very red, and darted at 
 me a glance of anger. Then restraining himself, he 
 answered in a very low tone : 
 
 " Monsieur, the subject can be discussed by us in 
 only one way, or not at all. You are young, and it 
 would be too pitiful for you to be cut off before you 
 have even seen Paris. Doubtless, you are impatient 
 to arrive there. It would be well, then, if you rode 
 on a little faster. It is my intention to proceed at a 
 much slower pace than will be agreeable to you." 
 
 And he reined in his horse. 
 
 I reined in mine likewise. I was boiling with 
 wrath at his superior tone, and his consideration 
 for my youth, but I imitated his coolness as well 
 as I could. 
 
 " Monsieur," said I, " whether or not I ever see 
 Paris is not a matter to concern you. I cannot 
 allow you to consider my youth. You wish to be 
 obliging ; then consider that nothing in the world 
 would be a greater favor to me than an opportunity 
 to maintain with my sword my opinion of Henri de 
 Guise." 
 
 The man smiled gently, and replied without 
 passion :
 
 1 8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "Then, as we certainly are not going to fight, let 
 my refusal be, not on account of your youth, but on 
 account of my necessity of reaching Paris without 
 accident." 
 
 His horse stood still. His lackeys also had 
 stopped their horses, which stood pawing and 
 snorting at a respectful distance. It was an awk 
 ward moment for me. I could nof stand there 
 trying to persuade a perfectly serene man to fight. 
 So with an abrupt pull of the rein I started my 
 horse, mechanically applied the spur, and galloped 
 off. A few minutes later I was out of sight of 
 this singularly self-controlled gentleman, who re 
 sented my description of the Duke of Guise. I 
 was annoyed for some time to think that he had 
 had the better of the occurrence ; and I gave myself 
 up for an hour to the unprofitable occupation of 
 mentally reenacting the scene in a manner more 
 creditable to myself. 
 
 " I may meet him in Paris some day," I said to 
 myself, " and find an occasion to right myself in his 
 estimation. He shall not let my youth intercede for 
 me again." 
 
 Then I wished that I had learned his name, that I 
 might, on reaching Paris, have found out more about 
 him. Having in his suite no gentlemen, but several 
 lackeys, he was, doubtless, not himself an important 
 personage, but a follower of one. Not wishing to
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 19 
 
 meet him again until circumstances should have 
 changed, I passed the next inn to which I came, 
 guessing that he would stop there. He must have 
 done so, for he did not come up with me that day, 
 or at any time during my journey. 
 
 It was at sunset on a clear, cold evening that, 
 without further adventure, I rode into Paris through 
 the Porte St. Michel, and stared, as I proceeded 
 along the Rue de la Harpe, at the crowds of people 
 hurrying in either direction in each of the narrow, 
 crooked streets, each person so absorbed in his own 
 errand, and so used to the throng and the noise, that 
 he paid no heed to the animation that so interested 
 and stirred me. The rays of the setting sun lighted 
 up the towers of the colleges and abbeys at my right, 
 while those at my left stood black against the purple 
 and yellow sky. I rode on and on, not wishing to 
 stop at an inn until I should have seen more of the 
 panorama that so charmed me. At last I reached 
 the left bank of the Seine, and saw before me the 
 little Isle of the City, the sunlit towers of Notre 
 Dame rising above the wilderness of turrets and spires 
 surrounding them. I crossed the Pont St. Michel, 
 stopping for a moment to look westward towards 
 the Tour de Nesle, and then eastward to the Tour- 
 nelle, thus covering, in two glances, the river bank 
 of the University through which I had just come. 
 Emerging from the bridge, I followed the Rue de la
 
 20 AN EMEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Barillerie across the Isle of the City, finding every 
 where the same bustle, the same coming and going of 
 citizens, priests, students, and beggars, all alert, yet 
 not to be surprised by any spectacle that might arise 
 before them. Reaching the right arm of the Seine, 
 I stopped again, this time on the Pont-au-Change, 
 and embraced, in a sweeping look from left to right, 
 the river bank of the town, the Paris of the court 
 and the palaces, of the markets and of trade, the 
 Paris in which I hoped to find a splendid future, 
 the Paris into which, after taking this comprehen 
 sive view from the towers of the Louvre and the 
 Tour de Bois away leftward, to the Tour de Billy 
 away right ward, I urged my horse with a jubilant 
 heart. It was a quite dark Paris by the time I 
 plunged into it. The Rue St. Denis, along which 
 I rode, was beginning to be lighted here and there 
 by stray rays from windows. The still narrower 
 streets, that ran, like crooked corridors in a great 
 chateau, from the large thoroughfare, seemed to be 
 altogether dark. 
 
 But, dark as the city had become, I had deter 
 mined to explore some of it that night, so charming 
 was its novelty, so inviting to me were its countless 
 streets, leading to who knows what? I stopped at 
 a large inn in the Rue St. Denis, saw my tired horse 
 well cared for by an hostler, who seemed amazed at 
 my rustic solicitude for details, had my portmanteau
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 21 
 
 deposited in a clean, white-washed chamber, over 
 looking the street, ate a supper such as only a Paris 
 innkeeper can serve and a ravenous youth from the 
 country can devour, and went forth afoot, after cur 
 few, into the now entirely dark and no longer crowded 
 street, to find what might befall me. 
 
 It had grown colder at nightfall, and I had to 
 draw my cloak closely around me. A wind had 
 come up, too, and the few people whom I met were 
 walking with head thrust forward, the better to re 
 sist the breeze when it should oppose them. Some 
 were attended by armed servants bearing lanterns. 
 The sign-boards, that hung from the projecting 
 stories of the tall houses, swung as the wind 
 swayed, and there was a continual sound of creak 
 ing. Clouds had risen, and the moon was obscured 
 much of the time, so that when I looked down some 
 of the narrower streets I could not see whether 
 they ended within a short distance, turned out of 
 sight, or continued far in the same direction. Be 
 ing accustomed to the country roads, the squares 
 of smaller towns, and the wide avenues of the little 
 park at La Tournoire, I was at first surprised at 
 the narrowness of the streets. Across one of them 
 lay a drunken man, peacefully snoring. His head 
 touched the house on one side of the street, and 
 his feet pressed the wall on the opposite side. It 
 surprised me to find so many of the streets no
 
 22 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 wider than this. But there was more breathing 
 room wherever two streets crossed and where sev 
 eral of them opened into some great place. The 
 crookedness and curvature of the streets constantly 
 tempted me to seek what might be beyond, around 
 the corner, or the bend ; and whenever I sought, 
 I found still other corners or bends hiding the un 
 known, and luring me to investigate. 
 
 I had started westward from the inn, intending to 
 proceed towards the Louvre. But presently, having 
 turned aside from one irregular street into another, 
 I did not know what was the direction in which I 
 went. The only noises that I heard were those 
 caused by the wind, excepting when now and then 
 came suddenly a burst of loud talk, mingled mirth 
 and jangling, as quickly shut off, when the door of 
 some cabaret opened and closed. When I heard 
 footsteps on the uneven pebble pavement of the 
 street, and saw approaching me out of the gloom 
 some cloaked pedestrian, I mechanically gripped 
 the handle of my sword, and kept a wary eye 
 on the stranger, knowing that in passing each 
 other we must almost touch elbows. His own sus 
 picious and cautious demeanor and motions reflected 
 mine. 
 
 At night, in the narrow streets of a great town, 
 there exists in every footfall heard, every human 
 figure seen emerging from the darkness, the possi-
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 2 3 
 
 bility of an encounter, an adventure, something un 
 expected. So, to the night roamer, every human 
 sound or sight has an unwonted interest. 
 
 As I followed the turning of one of the narrowest 
 streets, the darkness, some distance ahead of me, was 
 suddenly cleft by a stream of light from a window 
 that was quickly opened in the second story of a tall 
 house on the right-hand side of the way. Then the 
 window was darkened by the form of a man coming 
 from the chamber within. At his appearance into 
 view I stood still. Resting for a moment on his 
 knees on the window-ledge, he lowered first one leg, 
 then the other, then his body, and presently he was 
 hanging by his hands over the street. Then the face 
 of a woman appeared in the window, and as the 
 man remained there, suspended, he looked up at her 
 inquiringly. 
 
 " It is well," she said, in a low tone ; " but be 
 quick. We are just in time." And she stood ready 
 to close the window as soon as he should be out of 
 the way. 
 
 "Good night, adorable," he replied, and dropped 
 to the street. The lady immediately closed the 
 window, not even waiting to see how the man had 
 alighted. 
 
 Had she waited to see that, she would have 
 seen him, in lurching over to prevent his sword 
 from striking the ground, lose his balance on a de-
 
 24 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 tached paving-stone, and fall heavily on his right 
 arm. 
 
 " Peste!" he hissed, as he slowly scrambled to his 
 feet. "I have broken my arm ! " 
 
 With his right arm hanging stiff by his side, and 
 clutching its elbow with his left hand, as if in great 
 pain, he hastened away from the spot, not having 
 noticed me. , I followed him. 
 
 After a second turn, the street crossed another. 
 In the middle of the open space at the junction, there 
 stood a cross, as could be seen by the moonlight that 
 now came through an interval in the procession of 
 wind-driven clouds. 
 
 Just as the man with the hurt arm, who was slen 
 der, and had a dandified walk, entered this open 
 space, a gust of wind came into it with him ; and 
 there came, also, from the other street, a robust 
 gentleman of medium height, holding his head high 
 and walking briskly. Caught by the gust of wind, my 
 gentleman from the second story window ran precipi- 
 tantly into the other. The robust man was not sent 
 backward an inch. He took the shock of meeting 
 with the firmness of an unyielding wall; so that the 
 slender gentleman rebounded. Each man uttered 
 a brief oath, and grasped his sword, the slender one 
 forgetting the condition of his arm. 
 
 " Oh, it is you," said the robust man, in a virile 
 voice, of which the tone was now purposely offen-
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 2$ 
 
 sive. "The wind blows fragile articles into one's 
 face to-night." 
 
 " It blows gentlemen into muck-heaps," responded 
 the other, quickly. 
 
 The hearty gentleman gave a loud laugh, meant to 
 aggravate the other's anger, and then said : 
 
 "We do not need seconds, M. de Quelus," put 
 ting into his utterance of the other's name a world of 
 insult. 
 
 " Come on, then, M. Bussy d'Amboise," replied 
 the other, pronouncing the name only that he might, 
 in return, hiss out the final syllable as if it were the 
 word for something filthy. 
 
 Both whipped out their swords, M. de Quelus 
 now seemingly unconscious of the pain in his arm. 
 
 I looked on from the shadow in which I had 
 stopped, not having followed De Quelus into the 
 little open space. My interest in the encounter 
 was naturally the greater for having learned the 
 names of the antagonists. At La Tournoire I had 
 heard enough of the court to know that the Marquis 
 de Quelus was the chief of the King's effeminate 
 chamberlains, whom he called his minions, and that 
 Bussy d'Amboise was the most redoubtable of the 
 rufflers attached to the King's discontented brother, 
 the Duke of Anjou; and that between the dainty 
 gentlemen of the King and the bullying swordsmen 
 of the Duke, there was continual feud.
 
 26 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Bussy d'Amboise, disdaining even to remove his 
 cloak, of which he quickly gathered the end under 
 his left arm, made two steps and a thrust at De 
 Quelus. The latter made what parade he could for 
 a moment, so that Bussy stepped back to try a feint. 
 De Quelus, trying to raise his sword a trifle higher, 
 uttered an ejaculation of pain, and then dropped the 
 point. Bussy had already begun the motion of a 
 lunge, which it was too late to arrest, even if he had 
 discovered that the other's arm was injured and had 
 disdained to profit by such an advantage. De Quelus 
 would have been pierced through had not I leaped 
 forward with drawn sword and, by a quick thrust, 
 happened to strike Bussy's blade and make it diverge 
 from its course. 
 
 De Quelus jumped back on his side, as Bussy did 
 on his. Both regarded me with astonishment. 
 
 " Oh, ho, an ambush ! " cried Bussy. " Then come 
 on, all of you, messieurs of the daubed face and 
 painted beard! I shall not even call my servants, 
 who wait at the next corner." 
 
 And he made a lunge at me, which I diverted by 
 a parry made on instinct, not having had time to 
 bring my mind to the direction of matters. Bussy 
 then stood back on guard. 
 
 " You lie," said De Quelus, vainly trying to find suf 
 ficient strength in his arm to lift his sword. " I was 
 alone. My servants are as near as yours, yet I have
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 2? 
 
 not called. As for this gentleman, I never saw him 
 before." 
 
 "That is true," I said, keeping up my guard, while 
 Bussy stood with his back to the cross, his brows 
 knit in his effort to make out my features. 
 
 "Oh, very well," said Bussy. " I do not recognize 
 him, but he is evidently a gentleman in search of a 
 quarrel, and I am disposed to be accommodating." 
 
 He attacked me again, and I surprised myself, 
 vastly, by being able to resist the onslaughts of this, 
 the most formidable swordsman at the court of 
 France. But I dared not hope for final victory. 
 It did not even occur to me as possible that I might 
 survive this fight. The best for which I hoped was 
 that I might not be among the easiest victims of this 
 famous sword. 
 
 " Monsieur," said De Quelus, while Bussy and I 
 kept it up, with offence on his part, defence on mine, 
 " I am sorry that I cannot intervene to save your life. 
 My arm has been hurt in a fall, and I cannot even 
 hold up my sword." 
 
 " I know that," I replied. " That is why I inter 
 fered." 
 
 "The devil!" cried Bussy. "Much as I detest 
 you, M. de Quelus, you know I would not have 
 attacked you had I known that. But this gen 
 tleman, at least, has nothing the matter with his 
 arm."
 
 28 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 And he came for me again. 
 
 Nothing the matter with my arm ! Actually a 
 compliment upon my sword-handling from the most 
 invincible fighter, whether in formal duel or sudden 
 quarrel, in France ! I liked the generosity which 
 impelled him to acknowledge me a worthy antago 
 nist, as much as I resented his overbearing inso 
 lence ; and I began to think there was a chance 
 for me. 
 
 For the first time, I now assumed the offensive, 
 and with such suddenness that Bussy fell back, out 
 of sheer surprise. He had forgotten about the cross 
 that stood in the centre of the place, and, in leaping 
 backward, he struck this cross heavily with his sword 
 wrist. His glove did not save him from being jarred 
 and bruised ; and, for a moment, he relaxed his firm 
 grasp of his sword, and before he could renew his 
 clutch I could have destroyed his guard and ended 
 the matter ; but I dropped my point instead. 
 
 Bussy looked at me in amazement, and then 
 dropped his. 
 
 " Absurd, monsieur ! You might very fairly have 
 used your advantage. Now you have spoiled every 
 thing. We can't go on fighting, for I would not 
 give you another such opening, nor would I kill a 
 man who gives me my life." 
 
 "As you will, monsieur," said I. " I am glad not 
 to be killed, for what is the use of having fought
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 2<) 
 
 Bussy d'Amboise if one may not live to boast 
 of it?" 
 
 He seemed pleased in his self-esteem, and sheathed 
 his sword. " I am destined not to fight to-night," he 
 answered. " One adversary turns out to have a dam 
 aged arm, which would make it a disgrace to kill him, 
 and the other puts me under obligation for my life. 
 But, M. de Quelus, your arm will recover." 
 
 " I hope so, if for only one reason," replied 
 Quelus. 
 
 Bussy d'Amboise then bowed to me, and strode on 
 his way. He was joined at the next crossing of 
 streets by four lackeys, who had been waiting in 
 shadow. All had swords and pistols, and one bore 
 a lantern, which had been concealed beneath his 
 cloak. 
 
 De Quelus, having looked after him with an 
 angry frown, now turned to me, and spoke with 
 affability : 
 
 " Monsieur, had you not observed the condition 
 of my arm, I should have resented your aid. But 
 as it is, I owe you my life no less than he owes you 
 his, and it may be that I can do more than merely 
 acknowledge the obligation." 
 
 I saw here the opportunity for which a man might 
 wait months, and I was not such a fool as to lose it 
 through pride. 
 
 " Monsieur," I said, " I am Ernanton de Launay,
 
 30 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Sieur de la Tournoire. I arrived in Paris to-day, 
 from Anjou, with the desire of enlisting in the 
 French Guards." 
 
 De Quelus smiled. " You desire very little for a 
 gentleman, and one who can handle a sword so 
 well." 
 
 " I know that, but I do not bring any letters, and I 
 am not one who could expect the favor of a court 
 appointment. I am a Huguenot." 
 
 " A Huguenot ? " said De Quelus. " And yet you 
 come to Paris ? " 
 
 " I prefer to serve the King of France. He is at 
 present on good terms with the Huguenots, is he 
 not?" 
 
 " Yes, at least, he is not at war with them. 
 Well, gentlemen like you are not to be wasted, 
 even though Huguenots. Attach yourself to Duret's 
 company of the guards for the present, and who 
 knows when you may win a vacant captaincy ? I 
 will bring you to the attention of the King. Can 
 you be, to-morrow at eleven o'clock, at the principal 
 gate of the Louvre ? " 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 " Very well. I will speak to Captain Duret, also, 
 about you." 
 
 He looked at my active figure, neither tall nor 
 short, neither broad nor too thin, observed the length 
 of my arm, and remembered that I had made so
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 31 
 
 respectable a showing with the sword against Bussy. 
 I could see that he was thinking, " It is well to 
 have in one's debt as many such strong and honest 
 young gentlemen as can be had. Even a Huguenot 
 may be useful in these days." 
 
 Then, when so many leaders contended, every man 
 was desirous of gaining partisans. At court, wise 
 people were scrupulous to repay obligations, in the 
 hope of securing future benefit. I divined De 
 Quelus's motives, but was none the less willing to 
 profit by them as to the possible vacant captaincy. 
 
 " Then I thank you, monsieur, and will keep the 
 appointment," I said. 
 
 " You are alone," said De Quelus. " One does not 
 know when one may have one's throat cut for a sou, 
 after dark in the streets of Paris. Will you accept 
 the escort of two of my servants ? They are wait 
 ing for me in the next street. One does not, you 
 know, let one's servants wait too near windows 
 out of which one expects to drop," he added with 
 a smile. 
 
 " I thank you, monsieur, but I have already fared 
 so well alone to-night, that I should fear to change 
 my fortune by taking attendants." 
 
 " Then good night, monsieur. No, thank you. I 
 can sheathe my own sword. My arm has lost its 
 numbness. Parbleu, I should like to meet Bussy 
 d'Amboise now."
 
 32 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 And he strode away, leaving me standing by the 
 cross. 
 
 I hesitated between returning to the inn, and 
 resuming my exploration of the streets. I decided 
 to go back, lest I be shut out for the night. 
 
 I had made my way some distance, in the laby 
 rinth of streets, when, on reaching another junction 
 of ways, I heard steps at some distance to the left. 
 Looking in that direction, I saw approaching a little 
 procession headed by two men servants, one of whom 
 carried a lantern. I stepped back into the street 
 from which I had just emerged, that I might remain 
 unseen, until it should pass. Peering around the 
 street corner, I saw that behind the two servants 
 came a lady, whose form indicated youth and ele 
 gance, and who leaned on the arm of a stout woman, 
 doubtless a servant. Behind these two came another 
 pair of lackeys. 
 
 The lady wore a mask, and although heavily 
 cloaked, shivered in the January wind, and walked 
 as rapidly as she could. The four men had swords 
 and pistols, and were sturdy fellows, able to afford 
 her good protection. 
 
 The two men in advance passed without seeing 
 me, stepping easily over a pool of muddy water that 
 had collected in a depression in the street, and had 
 not yet had time to freeze. 
 
 When the lady reached this pool, she stopped at
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 33 
 
 its brink and looked down at it, with a little motion 
 of consternation. 
 
 " I cannot step across this lake," she said, in a 
 voice that was low-pitched, rich, and full of charm to 
 the ear. " We must skirt its borders." 
 
 And she turned to walk a short distance up the 
 street in which I stood. 
 
 " Not so, madame," I said, stepping forth and 
 bowing. " The lake is a long one, and you would 
 have to go far out of your way. I will convey you 
 across in a moment, if you will allow me." And I 
 held out my arms, indicating my willingness to lift 
 her across the pool. 
 
 The two servants in the rear now hastened up, 
 ready to attack me, and those ahead turned and 
 came back, their hands on their weapons. 
 
 The lady looked at me through the eye-holes of 
 her mask. Her lips and chin being visible, she 
 could not conceal a quizzical smile that came at 
 my offer. 
 
 "Why not?" she said, motioning her servants 
 back. 
 
 I caught her up in^rny arms and lifted her over 
 the puddle. She slid from my grasp with a slight 
 laugh. 
 
 I sought some pretext to prolong this meeting. 
 "When I came out to-night," I said, "I dared not 
 hope for such happiness as this."
 
 $4 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Nor did the astrologer predict anything of the 
 kind to me," she replied. From this I knew the 
 cause of her -being in the street so late, a secret 
 visit to some fortune-teller. Then she called to the 
 stout woman, who was looking for a place to step 
 over the pool. "Come, Isa, in the name of Heaven. 
 You know that if the guard is changed 
 
 She stopped, but she had already betrayed herself. 
 She meant the guard of the palace, doubtless ; and 
 that her secret entrance, so long after the closing 
 of the gates, depended for its ease on the presence 
 of some officer with whom she had an understanding. 
 She must be one of the ladies attached to the royal 
 household, and her nocturnal excursion, from the 
 Louvre, was evidently clandestine. 
 
 Isa now joined her mistress, and the latter, with 
 a mere, " I thank you, monsieur," turned and has 
 tened on her way. Soon the footsteps of her attend 
 ants died out of hearing. 
 
 I had not even seen her face, save the white, 
 curved chin and the delicate mouth. I had only 
 beheld her lithe figure, felt its heaving as I carried 
 her, had my cold cheek warmed for a moment by 
 her breath, heard her provoking laugh and her voice, 
 rich with vitality. Yet her charm had caught me 
 and remained with me. I could not, nor did I try 
 to throw it off. I was possessed by a craving to 
 see her again, to know more of her. Already I
 
 TWO ENCOUNTERS BY NIGHT. 35 
 
 made this unknown the heroine of my prospective 
 love affair. I could soon find her, after gaining the 
 entre'e of the court ; and I could identify her by her 
 voice as well as by her probable recognition of me. 
 Heaving a deep sigh, I left the place of our meeting 
 and found my way back to the inn. Thanks to the 
 presence of some late drinkers, I got in without 
 much pounding on the door ; and in my little white 
 washed chamber I dreamt of soft eyes that glowed 
 through the holes of a lady's mask.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 THE next morning was bright, and not too cold. 
 At eleven I approached the great gate of the Louvre, 
 wearing the bold demeanor of a man determined not 
 to be abashed, even by the presence of royalty. Yet 
 within me there was some slight trepidation lest I 
 should, on first setting foot within the precincts of 
 a palace, betray my rustic bringing up. 
 
 Others were being admitted at the gate, and some 
 were coming out, both the King's council and the 
 reception having been over for some time. A page, 
 who had been waiting just inside the court, came out 
 as I approached, and asked me if I were M. de Lau- 
 nay. Astonished, that he should have so easily 
 picked me out, I replied that I was. He then said 
 that he had come to conduct me to Monsieur the 
 Marquis de Quelus, and I followed him into the 
 great courtyard of the Louvre. 
 
 Before me was the imposing facade of the palace. 
 Around me was an animated scene of well-dressed 
 gentlemen coming and going, meeting one another, 
 
 36
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 37 
 
 forming little groups for a moment's interchange 
 of news or inquiries, and as quickiy breaking up. 
 There were soldiers on guard, officers on duty and 
 off, courtiers in brilliant doublets, dazzling ruffs, rich 
 hose ; gentlemen with gay plumes, costly cloaks, 
 jewelled sword-hilts. There were pages, strutting 
 about with messages ; lackeys, belonging only to 
 the greatest nobles or royal favorites. Everybody, 
 whether gentleman, soldier, household officer, priest, 
 page, or valet, went with an air of great conse 
 quence, with head high in air, every step, expression, 
 and attitude proclaiming a sense of vast superiority 
 to the rest of the world. It was as if people at 
 tached to the court were an elevated race of beings ; 
 or as if the court were Olympus, and these were 
 gods and the servitors of gods, who, very properly, 
 regarded mortals with disdain. Each man, too, 
 maintained not only this lofty air as befitting one 
 of the court, but also an aspect of individual pre- 
 ciousness as towards his fellow divinities. There was, 
 in many a face or bearing, an expressed resentment, 
 in advance, of any affront that might be offered. 
 The soldiers swaggered, the gentlemen showed self- 
 esteem in every motion. Nevertheless, there was 
 much good nature and courtesy in the salutations, 
 fragments of conversation, and exchanges of gos 
 sip. Leaving the sunlit courtyard behind, the page 
 showed me up a fine stairway, where some gentle-
 
 38 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 men tarried in little parties, while others ascended 
 or descended. We passed through large galleries, 
 the same animation continuing everywhere. I had 
 no time, as we passed, to examine the superb hang 
 ings and fanciful decorations of the galleries in 
 detail. The clothes of the courtiers, the brilliant 
 display of velvet, silk, furs, and the finest linen, of 
 every known hue, made a continually changing, 
 moving panorama of color. 
 
 We approached, at last, a group extraordinarily 
 radiant in attire. It was composed of very young 
 men, some of whom had hardly yet acquired the 
 beard required by the universal fashion. Even at 
 a distance I could see that their cheeks were painted, 
 could note their affectation of feminine attitudes, 
 could smell the perfumes with which they had del 
 uged their bodies. These were some of the favor 
 ites of the King, and more of the imitators of the 
 favorites. No wonder that Bussy .d'Amboise and 
 the sturdy gentlemen of the King's ungainly brother, 
 Anjou, had a manly detestation for these bedaubed 
 effeminates, and sought opportunities to extirpate 
 them with the sword. Yet these dainty youths, 
 one of whom was De Quelus, who now came for 
 ward to meet me, were not cowards. 
 
 The young Marquis wore a slashed doublet of 
 brown velvet and gold. His silken hose were of a 
 lighter tint of brown. His ruff was s'o enormous
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 39 
 
 that he had to keep the point of his beard thrust 
 forward at an elevation. 
 
 " I shall present you when the King passes," he 
 said to me. " I have already spoken a word to 
 Captain Duret, to whom you will report to-morrow. 
 He will make a veteran of you in a quarter of an 
 hour. The King, by the way, knows of your family. 
 He knows every family in France, for that matter. 
 I spoke of you to him at his rising this morning. 
 He said that your father was a Huguenot, and I 
 told him that you also were Protestant. You know 
 enough of things in France to be aware that your 
 Protestantism stands a little in your way at court, 
 just now ; but things may change before there is a 
 vacant captaincy in the Guards." 
 
 People who have thought it bad enough that I 
 should have gone to Paris, instead of to the 'court 
 of Henri of Navarre, have been astonished, beyond 
 expression, at my having desired to serve in the 
 King's infantry, which, in the event of another civil 
 war, might be arrayed against the army of our faith. 
 But it must be borne in mind that I had this desire 
 at a time when none knew how the different armies 
 might be placed towards one another in the civil war, 
 which everybody admitted must, at some time or 
 other, occur. I was one of the many who believed 
 that the Duke of Guise, using the newly formed 
 Holy League as his instrument, would aim for the
 
 4O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 throne of France ; that King Henri III. would be 
 forced, in self-defence, to make an alliance with the 
 Huguenot leaders ; and that, therefore, I, in fulfilling 
 my ambition to be of this King's own soldiers, with 
 quarters in or near Paris in time of peace, would, at 
 the outbreak of civil war, find myself in line with the 
 armies of our faith, opposed to the common enemy, 
 the great Catholic Guise faction. Of the various 
 predictions as to the future of France, I chose this 
 one, perhaps because it was the only one which 
 permitted me to follow out my wishes without out 
 raging my sense of duty. 
 
 Before I could answer De Quelus, a voice said, 
 " The King ! " At the end of the gallery, where two 
 halberdiers and two ushers stood, a pair of curtains 
 had quickly parted, and out came a slender young 
 man all velvet, silk, gold, and jewels ; with the legs 
 and the walk jof a woman ; with face painted like 
 a courtesan's ; a very slight beard on his chin, and 
 a weak growth of hair on his upper lip ; with a look 
 half brazen, half shamefaced ; with eyes half wist 
 ful, half malicious ; his pear-shaped face expressing 
 some love of the beautiful, some wit, some cynicism, 
 much personal vanity, vicious inclinations and prac 
 tices, restlessness, the torture of secret self-reproach, 
 a vague distress, a longing to escape somewhere and 
 be at peace. 
 
 He wore ear-rings, a necklace, bracelets, and a
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 4! 
 
 small jewelled velvet cap ; but he was without his 
 famous basket of little dogs. This was Henri III., 
 and he was going to pray in one of the churches. 
 
 As he came down the gallery, he noticed De 
 Quelus, from afar, and then glanced at me. When 
 he was before us, De Quelus made obeisance and 
 presented me. Before I could finish my bow, the 
 King said : 
 
 "Ah, it was your sword that helped to preserve 
 my chamberlain from the ambush laid for him ? " 
 (From which it appeared that De Quelus had given 
 his own account of the previous night's occurrence.) 
 " And you wish to enlist in my regiment of French 
 Guards ? My faith, I have done well in reestablish 
 ing that corps, if such brave young gentlemen are 
 induced to enter it. I'll wager you hope to earn 
 a commission soon." 
 
 I could only reply: " Such a hope is beyond my 
 deserts, sire." 
 
 It was indeed beyond them, for I had seen no 
 military service ; but it was not beyond them for 
 any other reason. 
 
 " Nothing is beyond the deserts of one whose 
 sword is always loyal," said the King, with intended 
 significance, and passed on ; his gentlemen falling in 
 behind him. De Quelus gave me directions as to 
 my reporting, on the morrow, to Captain Duret, and 
 added, " Rely on me for any favor or privilege that
 
 42 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 you may wish, and for access to the palace. You 
 have only to send me word." He then joined the 
 following of the King. 
 
 I seemed now at liberty to remain in the Louvre 
 as long as I might choose, having once entered it. 
 I thought I would look about, knowing that if at 
 any time I should be about to trespass on forbidden 
 ground, there would be guards to hinder me. I 
 went first to a window overlooking the court. I had 
 no sooner turned my eyes down upon the splendid 
 and animated scene below, then I felt a touch on my 
 elbow. Looking around, I saw a familiar face, 
 that of M. de Rilly, another Anjou gentleman, whom 
 I had known before his coming to court. He was 
 now one of the King's equerries. 
 
 He was a sprightly man of about thirty, with none 
 of the effeminacy that marked so many of the officers 
 of the King's household. Though not of my religion, 
 he made me heartily welcome, and undertook, at 
 once, to initiate me into the mysteries of the court. 
 He was a loquacious, open-minded man, who did not 
 fear to express his thoughts, even in the shadow of 
 royalty itself. 
 
 Hearing some clatter in the direction whither the 
 King had gone, I looked after him. A short, com 
 pact young gentleman, plainly, but richly dressed, 
 slightly stooping, with a rather surly face, and an 
 envious eye, was coming towards the King. He wore
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 43 
 
 riding-boots and a cloak, and behind him came a 
 troop of young men similarly attired. The foremost 
 of them was Bussy d'Amboise, expressing defiance 
 in every line of his bold, square countenance. 
 
 " Ah," said De Rilly, " there is the Duke of Anjou, 
 who has been riding in the faubourg." 
 
 I took a second look at the surly gentleman. At 
 this moment he exchanged glances with his brother, 
 the King. The look of each was eloquent. The 
 King's said, " I hate you for being a disloyal brother 
 and a fractious subject ; for conspiring to take away 
 part of my kingdom ; and who knows but that you 
 are secretly aiming at my throne and my life ? " The 
 younger brother's look conveyed this much: "I hate 
 you for your suspicions of me ; for your not obtain 
 ing for me in your court the respect due the son and 
 brother of a king ; for encouraging your favorites to 
 ridicule me. If I am driven to rebel against you, 
 it is your own fault." 
 
 The King received the Duke's perfunctory salu 
 tation indifferently, and passed on. Anjou and his 
 men turned into a gallery leading to his own apart 
 ments. 
 
 " I see that everybody is following the King," I 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, but not I," replied De Rilly. " I find it 
 no more amusing to pray when the King does 
 than at any other time. I came here, this morn-
 
 44 AN ENEMY TO THE ICING. 
 
 ing, to catch a glimpse of one of the Queen's 
 ladies, but her Majesty has a cold, and my lady is 
 in attendance." 
 
 " Which of the Queens has a cold ? " 
 
 " Queen Louise, the King's wife. It is true, one 
 may well ask which, when there is mention of the 
 Queen nowadays. The Queen of France is a small 
 factor when compared with the King's mother, Queen 
 Catherine, or even with his sister, the Queen of 
 Navarre, whose name is on everyone's tongue, on 
 account of her love affairs, and of her suspected 
 plots." 
 
 " What plots ? " 
 
 " Some think she plots with the Duke of Guise, 
 who cannot wait to rule France until Catherine's 
 sons are both dead, but Catherine will make him 
 wait. Others believe that she plots with her Hugue- 
 iiot husband, the King of Navarre, to join him ; and 
 that the King keeps her here virtually a prisoner, 
 lest her departure might be taken as a concession 
 to the Huguenots ; and, lastly and chiefly, they aver 
 that she plots with her brother Anjou, to help him 
 to join the Huguenots and malcontents as their 
 leader." 
 
 " This is very interesting, M. de Rilly ; but, par 
 don me, is it safe to say these things openly at 
 court ? I am fresh from the country, and anxious 
 not to blunder."
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 45 
 
 " It is safe for me, because I am nobody at all, 
 and, moreover, I say whatever is in my thoughts, and 
 am looked upon as a rattlebrain, and not taken seri 
 ously. But it would not be safe for some. There 
 comes the Queen of Navarre now. She and her 
 ladies have been walking in their garden." 
 
 A number of ladies were entering the gallery from 
 a side stairway. Marguerite de Valois, who ought 
 to have been with her husband, the King of Navarre, 
 at his little court at Nerac, remained instead at the 
 court of France, to be its greatest ornament. She 
 was, alas, its greatest scandal, also. But I admired 
 her none the less for that, as she stood there, erect 
 among her women, full of color and grace. Vast 
 possibilities of mischief seemed buried in the depths 
 of the big and brilliant eyes which gave so much life 
 to the small, round face. 
 
 While she stood still for one of her maids to 
 detach from her ruff a dead leaf that had dropped 
 there during her walk, Bussy d'Amboise returned 
 from Anjou's apartment. He walked up to her 
 with a conquering air, bowed, and said something that 
 made her laugh. Then he looked around and saw 
 me. He spoke to her again, in a low tone, and she 
 cast her fine eyes in my direction. She directed her 
 ladies to fall back out of hearing, and again conferred 
 with Bussy. At the end of this he left her, and 
 strode over to me.
 
 46 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Monsieur," he said, " the Queen of Navarre would 
 like to know your name. I do not remember to have 
 heard it last night." 
 
 I told him my name, and he took me by the arm, 
 led me to Marguerite, and presented me, somewhat 
 to my confusion, so rapidly was the thing done. 
 
 " You are a newcomer at court ? " she said. 
 
 " I arrived in Paris only yesterday." 
 
 " And have taken service with whom ? " 
 
 "In the French Guards." 
 
 " We shall doubtless hear more of your skill with 
 the sword," said Marguerite. 
 
 "1 knew not I had any," I replied, "until I found 
 out that I could stand up for a minute against the 
 sword I met last night. Now I am glad to know 
 that I possess skill, that I may hold it ever at the 
 service of your Majesty as well as of the King." 
 
 This speech seemed to be exactly what Marguerite 
 had desired of me, for she smiled and said, " I shall 
 not forget you, M. de la Tournoire," before she 
 turned away. 
 
 Bussy followed her, and I returned to De Rilly. 
 
 "Why should they pay any attention to me?" 
 I said to him. 
 
 " No newcomer is too insignificant to be sought 
 as an ally where there are so many parties," he 
 replied, indifferently. "Those two are with Anjou, 
 who may have use for as many adherents as he can
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. Atf 
 
 get one of these days. They say he is always med 
 itating rebellion with the Huguenots or the Poli- 
 tiques, or both, and I don't blame a prince who is so 
 shabbily treated at court." 
 
 "But what could a mere guardsman do, with 
 out friends or influence ? Besides, my military 
 duties " 
 
 " Will leave you plenty of time to get into other 
 troubles, if you find them amusing. How do you 
 intend to pass the rest of the day ? " 
 
 " I have no plans. I should like to see more of 
 the Louvre on my first visit ; and, to tell the truth, 
 I had hoped to find out more about a certain lady 
 who belongs to the court." 
 
 " What do you know of her ? " 
 
 " Only that she has a beautiful figure and a pretty 
 mouth and chin. She wore a mask, but I should 
 recognize her voice if I heard it again." 
 
 " I wish you better luck than I have had to-day." 
 
 Marguerite and her damsels had turned down 
 a corridor leading to her apartments. Bussy d'Am- 
 boise was disappearing down the stairs. There came, 
 from another direction, the lively chatter of women's 
 voices, and there appeared, at the head of the stairs 
 up which Marguerite had come, another group of 
 ladies, all young and radiant but one. The excep 
 tion was a stout, self-possessed looking woman of 
 middle age, dressed rather sedately in dark satin.
 
 48 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 She had regular features, calm black eyes, an 
 unruffled expression, and an air of authority with 
 out arrogance. 
 
 " Queen Catherine and some of her Flying Squad 
 ron," said De Rilly, in answer to my look of inquiry. 
 " She has been taking the air after the King's coun 
 cil. Her own council is a more serious matter, and 
 lasts all the time." 
 
 " Queen Catherine ? " I exclaimed, incredulously, 
 half refusing to see, in that placid matron, the cease 
 less plotter, the woman accused of poisoning and all 
 manner of bloodshed, whom the name represented. 
 
 " Catherine de Medici," said De Rilly, evidently 
 finding it a pleasure to instruct a newcomer as to 
 the personages and mysteries of the court. " She 
 who preserves the royal power in France at this 
 moment." 
 
 " She does not look as I have imagined her," 
 I said. 
 
 "One would not suppose," said De Rilly, "that 
 behind that serene countenance goes on the mental 
 activity necessary to keep the throne in possession 
 of her favorite son, who spends fortunes on his 
 minions, taxes his subjects to the utmost, and 
 disgusts them with his eccentric piety and peculiar 
 vices." 
 
 " Dare one say such things in the very palace of 
 that King ? "
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 49 
 
 " Why not say what every one knows ? It is what 
 people say in hidden places that is dangerous." 
 
 "I wonder what is passing in the Queen-mother's 
 mind at this moment," I said, as Catherine turned 
 into the corridor leading to Anjou's apartments. 
 
 In the light of subsequent events, I can now give 
 a better answer to that query than De Rilly, himself, 
 could have given then. Catherine had to use her 
 wits to check the deep designs of Henri, Duke of 
 Guise, who was biding his time to claim the throne 
 as the descendant of Charlemagne, and was as be 
 loved of the populace as Henri III. was odious to 
 it. Thanks to the rebellion of Huguenots and mal 
 contents, Guise had been kept too busy in the field 
 to prosecute his political designs. As head of the 
 Catholic party, and heir to his father's great military 
 reputation, he could not, consistently, avoid the duties 
 assigned him by the crown. That these duties 
 might not cease, Catherine found it to her interest 
 that rebellion should continue indefinitely. The 
 Huguenot party, in its turn, was kept by the Guise 
 or Catholic party from assaults on the crown. In 
 fine, while both great factions were occupied with 
 each other, neither could threaten the King. This 
 discord, on which she relied to keep her unpopular 
 son safe on his throne, was fomented by her in 
 secret ways. She shifted from side to side, as cir 
 cumstances required. The parties must be main-
 
 5O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 tained, in order that discontent might vent itself in 
 factional contest, and not against the King. The 
 King must belong to neither party, in order not to 
 be of the party that might be ultimately defeated ; 
 yet he must belong to both parties, in order to be 
 of the party that might ultimately triumph. To 
 the maintainance of this impossible situation was the 
 genius of Catherine de Medici successfully devoted 
 for many years of universal discontent and blood 
 shed. 
 
 Now the Duke of Guise had found a way to turn 
 these circumstances to account. Since the King 
 of France could not hold down the Huguenots, the 
 Holy Catholic League, composed of Catholics of 
 every class throughout the most of France, would 
 undertake -the task. He foresaw that he, as leader 
 of the League, would earn from the Catholics a 
 gratitude that would make him the most powerful 
 man in the kingdom. Catherine, too, saw this. To 
 neutralize this move, she caused the King to en 
 dorse the League and appoint himself its head. 
 The Huguenots must not take this as a step against 
 them ; on the contrary, they must be led to regard 
 it as a shrewd measure to restrain the League. The 
 King's first official edicts, after assuming the leader 
 ship of the League, seemed to warrant this view. So 
 the King, in a final struggle against the Guise ele 
 ments, might still rely on the aid of the Huguenots.
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. $1 
 
 But the King still remained outside of the League, 
 although nominally its chief. Catherine saw that it 
 was not to be deluded from its real purpose. The 
 only thing to do was to conciliate the Duke of Guise 
 into waiting. There was little likelihood of either of 
 her sons attaining middle age. The Duke of Guise, 
 a splendid specimen of physical manhood, would 
 doubtless outlive them ; he might be induced to 
 wait for their deaths. The rightful successor to the 
 throne would then be Henri of Navarre, head of the 
 Bourbon family. But he was a Huguenot ; there 
 fore Catherine affected to the Duke of Guise a great 
 desire that he should succeed her sons. The exist 
 ing peace allowed the Duke of Guise the leisure 
 in which to be dangerous ; so every means to keep 
 him quiet was taken. 
 
 Some of these things De Rilly told me, as we 
 stood in the embrasure of a window in the gallery, 
 while Catherine visited her son, Anjou, whose 
 discontent at court complicated the situation, for 
 he might, at any time, leave Paris and lead the 
 Huguenots and malcontents in a rebellion which 
 would further discredit her family with the people, 
 demonstrate anew the King's incompetence, and 
 give the League an opportunity. 
 
 "And does the Duke of Guise allow himself to be 
 cajoled ? " I asked De Rilly. 
 
 "Who knows? He is a cautious man, anxious
 
 52 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 to make no false step. They say he would be 
 willing to wait for the death of the King, but that 
 he is ever being urged to immediate action by De 
 Noyard." 
 
 "De Noyard?" 
 
 " One of Guise's followers ; an obscure gentle 
 man of very great virtue, who has recently become 
 Guise's most valued counsellor. He keeps Guise on 
 his guard against Catherine's wiles, they say, and 
 discourages Guise's amour with her daughter, Mar 
 guerite, which Catherine has an interest in main 
 taining. Nobody is more de trop to Catherine 
 just at present, I hear, than this same Philippe de 
 Noyard. AhJ there he is now, in the courtyard, 
 the tallest of the gentlemen who have just dis 
 mounted, and are coming in this direction, with the 
 Duke of Guise." 
 
 I looked out of the window, and at once recognized 
 the Duke of Guise by the great height of his slender 
 but strong figure, the splendid bearing, the fine oval 
 face, with its small mustache, slight fringe of beard, 
 and its scar, and the truly manly and magnificent 
 manner, of which report had told us. He wore a 
 doublet of cloth of silver, a black cloak of velvet, and 
 a black hat with the Lorraine cross on its front. 
 The tallest man in his following Philippe de 
 Noyard, of whom De Rilly had just been speaking 
 was the gentleman whom I had met on the road
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 53 
 
 to Paris, and who had refused to fight me after 
 resenting my opinion of the Duke of Guise. 
 
 He must have arrived in Paris close behind me. 
 
 I was watching Guise and his gentlemen as they 
 crossed the court to enter the palace, when suddenly 
 I heard behind me the voice that had lingered in my 
 ears all the previous night. I turned hastily around, 
 and saw a group of Catherine's ladies, who stood 
 around a fireplace, not having followed the Queen- 
 mother to Anjou's apartments. 
 
 " Who is 'the lady leaning against the tapestry ? " 
 I quickly asked De Rilly. 
 
 "The one with the indolent attitude, and the 
 mocking smile ? " 
 
 "Yes, the very beautiful one, with the big gray 
 eyes. By heaven, her eyes rival those of Marguerite, 
 herself ! " 
 
 " That is Mile. d'Arency, a new recruit to Cather 
 ine's Flying Squadron." 
 
 Her face more than carried out the promise given 
 by her chin and mouth. It expressed to the eye all 
 that the voice expressed to the ear. 
 
 She had not seen me yet. I had almost made up 
 my mind to go boldly over to her, when the Duke of 
 Guise and his gentlemen entered the gallery. At 
 the same instant, Catherine reappeared on the arm 
 of the Duke of Anjou. The latter resigned her to 
 the Duke of Guise, and went back to his apartment,
 
 54 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 whereupon Catherine and Guise started for the 
 further end of the gallery, as if for private conver 
 sation. His manner was courteous, but cold ; hers 
 calm and amiable. 
 
 "Ah, see!" whispered De Rilly to me. "What 
 did I tell you?" 
 
 Catherine had cast a glance towards Guise's gentle 
 men. De Noyard, grave and reserved, stood a little 
 apart from the others. For an instant, a look of 
 profound displeasure, a deeply sinister look, inter 
 rupted the composure of Catherine's features. 
 
 " You see that M. de Noyard does not have the 
 effect on the Queen-mother that a rose in her path 
 would have," remarked De Rilly. 
 
 He did not notice what followed. But I observed 
 it, although not till long afterward did I see its sig 
 nificance. It was a mere exchange of glances, and 
 little did I read in it the secret which was destined 
 to have so vast an effect on my own life, to give my 
 whole career its course. It was no more than this : 
 Catherine turned her glance, quickly, from De Noyard 
 to Mile. d'Arency, who had already been observing 
 her. Mile. d'Arency gave, in reply, an almost im 
 perceptible smile of understanding ; then Catherine 
 and Guise passed on. 
 
 Two looks, enduring not a moment ; yet, had I 
 known what was behind them, my life would assur 
 edly have run an entirely different course.
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 55 
 
 The gentlemen of the Duke of Guise now joined 
 Catherine's ladies at the fireplace. For a time, 
 Mile. d'Arency was thus lost to my sight ; then 
 the group opened, and I saw her resting her great 
 eyes, smilingly, on the face of De Noyard, who was 
 talking to her in a low tone, his gaze fixed upon her 
 with an expression of wistful adoration. 
 
 " The devil ! " I muttered. " That man loves 
 her." 
 
 "My faith!" said De Rilly, "one would think he 
 was treading on your toes in doing so ; yet you do 
 not even know her." 
 
 " She is the woman I have chosen to be in love 
 with, nevertheless," I said. 
 
 It seemed as if the Duke of Guise had come to 
 the Louvre solely for a word with the Queen-mother, 
 for now he took his departure, followed by his suite, 
 while Catherine went to her own apartments. As 
 De Noyard passed out, he saw me. His face showed 
 that he recognized me, and that he wondered what 
 I was doing in the palace. There was nothing of 
 offence in his look, only a slight curiosity. 
 
 De Rilly now expressed an intention of going out 
 to take the air, but I preferred to stay where I 
 was ; for Mile. d'Arency had remained in the gallery, 
 with some other of Catherine's ladies. So the loqua 
 cious equerry went without me. 
 
 I formed a bold resolution, Quelling the trepida,-
 
 56 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 tion that came with it, I strode quickly over to Mile. 
 d'Arency, who still stood against the tapestry as if 
 she had been a figure in it but had come to life and 
 stepped out into the apartment. 
 
 Her large eyes fell on me, and opened slightly 
 wider, showing at once recognition and a not un 
 pleasant surprise. I bowed very low, partly to 
 conceal the flush that I felt mounting to my face. 
 
 " Pardon me, Mile. d'Arency," I said, in a voice as 
 steady as I could make it. Then I looked at her 
 and saw her features assuming an expression of such 
 coldness and astonishment that for some time neither 
 my tongue nor my mind could continue the speech, 
 nor could I move a step in retreat. All the while 
 she kept her eyes upon me. 
 
 I drew a deep breath at last, and said in despera 
 tion: 
 
 "Doubtless I ought not to address you, being 
 unknown to you, but if you will permit me, I will 
 go and bring M. de Rilly, who will present me." 
 
 Her face softened somewhat, and she looked 
 amused. "You seem quite able to present your 
 self," she said. 
 
 I was immensely relieved at this melting of the 
 ice, just when I was beginning to feel that I was 
 becoming a spectacle. 
 
 "I am Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tour- 
 noire," I said, and to fill up the embarrassing pause
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. $f 
 
 that followed, I added, "and, being a Huguenot, I 
 am a nobody in Paris, in fact, a mere volunteer in 
 the French Guards," 
 
 "Well, Monsieur Guardsman, what do you wish 
 to say to me?" 
 
 She was now in quite a pleasant, quizzical mood. 
 
 " I trust you do not expect me to say it in one 
 word," I answered ; and then I lowered my voice, 
 "or in a single interview." 
 
 " It does not matter how many interviews it re 
 quires, if it is interesting," she answered noncha 
 lantly. 
 
 " Alas ! " I said. " I fear it is a story which many 
 others have told you." 
 
 "An old story may seem new, when it comes 
 from new lips." 
 
 " And when it is new to the lips that tell it, as 
 mine is. Actually, I have never before made a con 
 fession of love." 
 
 " Am I to understand that you are about to make 
 one now ? " 
 
 " Have I not already made it ? " I said. 
 
 We now stood quite apart from all others in the 
 gallery, unnoticed by them ; and our voices had 
 fallen almost to a whisper. 
 
 She smiled, as if refusing to take my words seri 
 ously. 
 
 " If you have waited so long before making any
 
 $8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 confession of love whatever," she said, "you have 
 certainly made up for the delay by the speed which 
 you use in making your first." 
 
 " On the contrary, I have had my confession ready 
 for a long time, as my love has existed for a long 
 time. I waited only to meet its object, the wo 
 man of whom I had formed the ideal in my mind." 
 
 She looked as if about to burst into a laugh ; but 
 she changed her mind, and regarded me with a look 
 of inquiry, as if she would read my heart. The 
 smile was still on her lips, yet she spoke gravely 
 when she said : 
 
 " Monsieur, I cannot make you out. If you are 
 as sincere as you are original, but I must go to 
 the Queen-mother now. To-morrow afternoon, I 
 shall walk in the gardens of the Tuileries, if the 
 weather is clear." 
 
 " But one moment, I beg ! M. de Noyard, he 
 is in love with you, is he not ? " 
 
 Her face again took on its mocking look. "I 
 have not asked him," she said lightly. Then she 
 regarded me with a new and peculiar expression, as 
 if some daring idea had come into her mind, some 
 project which had to be meditated upon before it 
 might be safely breathed. 
 
 " You look at me strangely, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Oh, I merely wonder at your curiosity in regard 
 to M. de Noyard."
 
 LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 59 
 
 " My curiosity is not in regard to his feelings, but 
 in regard to yours." 
 
 " Monsieur," she said, with a very captivating air 
 of reproach, " have I not told you that I shall walk 
 in the gardens of the Tuileries to-morrow after 
 noon ? " 
 
 And she glided away, leaving behind her the most 
 delighted and conceited young man, at that moment, 
 in France.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 
 
 I WAS disappointed in the interview that I had 
 with Mile. d'Arency in the gardens of the Tuileries, 
 the next day. I saw her for only a few minutes, 
 and then within sight of other of Catherine's ladies. 
 Although I lost nothing of the ground I had taken, 
 neither did I gain anything further. Afterward, at 
 court receptions and fetes, and, sometimes, in the pal- 
 ace galleries, when she was off duty, I contrived to 
 meet her. She neither gave me opportunities nor 
 avoided me. All the progress that I made was in the 
 measure of my infatuation for her. When I begged 
 for a meeting at which we might not be surrounded 
 by half the court, she smiled, and found some reason 
 to prevent any such interview in the near future. So, 
 if I had carried things very far at our first meeting 
 in the Louvre, I now paid for my exceptional for 
 tune by my inability to carry them a step further. 
 
 Thus matters went for several days, during which 
 the assertion of De Rilly was proven true, that my 
 duties as a member of the French Guards would leave 
 
 60
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 6 1 
 
 me some time for pleasure. Thanks to De Quelus, 
 and to his enemy, Bussy d'Amboise, I made acquaint 
 ances both in the King's following and in that of the 
 King's brother, the Duke of Anjou. De Rilly made 
 me known to many who belonged to neither camp, 
 and were none the worse for that. Our company 
 lodged in the Faubourg St. Honore, but I led the 
 life of a gentleman of pleasure, when off duty, and, as 
 such, I had a private lodging within the town, near 
 the Louvre, more pretentious than the whitewashed 
 chamber in the Rue St. Denis. I* drank often in 
 cabarets, became something of a swaggerer, #nd 
 something of a fop, though never descending to 
 the womanishness of the King's minions, and did 
 not allow my great love affair, which I never men 
 tioned save in terms of mystery, to hinder me from 
 the enjoyment of lesser amours of transient duration. 
 At this time everybody was talking of the feud 
 between the King's favorites and the followers of 
 the Duke of Anjou. The King's minions openly 
 ridiculed Anjou for his ungainliness, which was all 
 the greater for his look of settled discontent and 
 resentment. His faithful and pugnacious Bussy re 
 taliated by having his pages dress like the King's 
 minions, with doublets of cloth of gold, stiff ruffs, 
 and great plumes, and so attend him at the Twelfth 
 Day fetes. The minions, in their turn, sought revenge 
 on Bussy by attacking him, on the following night,
 
 62 AN ENEMY TO THE KING, 
 
 while he was returning from the Louvre to his 
 lodgings. He eluded them, and the next morning he 
 accused M. de Grammont of having led the ambus 
 cade. De Quelus then proposed that all the King's 
 gentlemen should meet all those of the Duke in a 
 grand encounter to the death. The Duke's followers 
 gladly accepted the challenge. Three hundred men 
 on each side would have fought, had not the King 
 resolutely forbidden the duel. De Quelus, that night, 
 led a number of gentlemen in an attack on Bussy's 
 lodgings. Bussy and his followers made a stout re 
 sistance, the tumult becoming so great that the 
 Marechal de Montmorency called out the Scotch 
 Guard to clear the street in front of Bussy's house; 
 and it was time. Several gentlemen and servants 
 were lying in their blood ; and some of these died of 
 their wounds. 
 
 It was openly known, about the court, that the 
 Duke of Anjou held the King to be privy to these 
 attacks on Bussy, and was frightfully enraged 
 thereby; and that the King, in constant fear of the 
 Duke's departure to join the Huguenots, which 
 event would show the King's inability to prevent 
 sedition even in the royal family, and would give 
 the Guise party another pretext to complain of 
 his incompetence, would forcibly obstruct the 
 Duke's going. 
 
 It was this state of affairs that made Catherine de
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 63 
 
 Medici again take up her abode in the Louvre, that 
 she might be on the ground in the event of a family 
 outbreak, which was little less probable to occur at 
 night than in the daytime. She had lately lived part 
 of the time in her new palace of the Tuileries, and 
 part of the time in her Hdtel des Filles Repenties, 
 holding her council in either of these places, and 
 going to the Louvre daily for the signature of the 
 King to the documents of her own fabrication. At 
 this time, Mile. d'Arency was one of the ladies of 
 the Queen-mother's bedchamber, and so slept in the 
 Louvre. What should I be but such a fool as, when 
 off duty, to pass certain hours of the night in gazing 
 up at the window of my lady's chamber, as if I were 
 a lover in an Italian novel ! Again I must beg you 
 to remember that I was only twenty-one, and full of 
 the most fantastic ideas. I had undertaken an epic 
 love affair, and I would omit none of the picturesque 
 details that example warranted. 
 
 Going, one evening in February, to take up my 
 post opposite the Louvre, .1 suddenly encountered 
 a gentleman attended by two valets with torches. 
 I recognized him as De Noyard, who had twice or 
 thrice seen me about the palaces, but had never 
 spoken to me. I was therefore surprised when, on 
 this occasion, he stopped and said to me, in a low 
 and polite tone : 
 
 " Monsieur, I have seen you, once or twice, talking
 
 64 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 with M. Bussy d'Amboise, and I believe that, if you 
 are not one- of his intimates, you, at least, wish him 
 no harm." 
 
 " You are right, monsieur," I said, quite mystified. 
 
 " I am no friend of his," continued M. de Noyard, 
 in his cold, dispassionate tone, "but he is a brave 
 man, who fights openly, and, so far, he is to be com 
 mended. I believe he will soon return from the 
 Tuileries, where he has been exercising one of the 
 horses of the Duke of Anjou. I have just come 
 from there myself. On the way, I espied, without 
 seeming to see them, a number of the gentlemen 
 of the King waiting behind the pillars of the house 
 with a colonnade, near the Porte St. Honore." 
 
 "One can guess what that means." 
 
 "So I thought. As for me, I have more impor 
 tant matters in view than interfering with the quar 
 rels of young hot-heads ; but I think that there is 
 yet time for Bussy d'Amboise to be warned, before 
 he starts to return from the Tuileries." 
 
 "M. de Noyard, I thank you," I said, with a bow of 
 genuine respect, and in a moment I was hastening 
 along the Rue St. Honore. 
 
 I understood, of course, the real reasons why 
 De Noyard himself had not gone back to warn 
 Bussy. Firstly, those in ambush would probably 
 have noticed his turning back, suspected his pur 
 pose, and taken means to defeat it. Secondly, he
 
 "WITH A LOUD OATH HE REINED BACK HIS HORSE.
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLB. D'ARENCY. 65 
 
 was a man from whom Bussy would have accepted 
 neither warning nor assistance ; yet he was not 
 pleased that any brave man should be taken by 
 surprise, and he gave me credit for a similar feeling. 
 I could not but like him, despite my hidden suspicion 
 that there was something between Mile. d'Arency 
 and him. 
 
 I approached the house with the colonnade, feign 
 ing carelessness, as if I were returning to my military 
 quarters in the faubourg. The Porte St. Honore 
 was still open, although the time set for its closing 
 was past. 
 
 Suddenly a mounted figure appeared in the gate 
 way, which, notwithstanding the dusk, I knew, by the 
 way the rider sat his horse, to be that of Bussy. I 
 was too late to warn him ; I could only give my 
 aid. 
 
 Three figures rushed out from beneath the sup 
 ported upper story of the house, and made for Bussy 
 with drawn swords. With a loud oath he reined 
 back his horse on its haunches, and drew his own 
 weapon, with which he swept aside the two points 
 presented at him from the left. One of the three 
 assailants had planted himself in front of the horse, 
 to catch its bridle, but saw himself now threatened 
 by Bussy's sword, which moved with the swiftness of 
 lightning. This man thereupon fell back, but stood 
 ready to obstruct the forward movement of the horse,
 
 66 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 while one of the other two ran around to Bussy's 
 right, so that the rider might be attacked, simultane 
 ously on both sides. 
 
 This much I had time to see before drawing my 
 sword and running up to attack the man on the 
 horseman's left, whom I suddenly recognized as De 
 Quelus. At the same instant I had a vague impres 
 sion of a fourth swordsman rushing out from the 
 colonnade, and, before I could attain my object, I felt 
 a heavy blow at the base of my skull, which seemed 
 almost to separate my head from my neck, and I fell 
 forward, into darkness and oblivion. 
 
 I suppose that the man, running to intercept me, 
 had found a thrust less practicable than a blow with 
 the hilt of a dagger. 
 
 When I again knew that I was alive, I turned 
 over and sat up. Several men bourgeois, vaga 
 bonds, menials, and such were standing around, 
 looking down at me and talking of the affray. I 
 looked for Bussy and De Quelus, but did not see 
 either. At a little distance away was another group, 
 and people walked from that group to mine, and vice 
 versa. 
 
 "Where is M. Bussy?" I asked. 
 
 " Oho, this one is all right ! " cried one, who might 
 have been a clerk or a student ; " he asks questions. 
 You wish to know about Bussy, eh ? You ought 
 to have seen him gallop from the field without a
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 67 
 
 scratch, while his enemies pulled themselves to 
 gether and took to their heels." 
 
 " What is that, over there ? " I inquired, rising to 
 my feet, and discovering that I was not badly hurt. 
 
 " A dead man who was as much alive as any of us 
 before he ran to help M. Bussy. It is always the 
 outside man who gets the worst of it, merely for 
 trying to be useful. There come the soldiers of 
 the watch, after the fight is over." 
 
 I walked over to the other group and knelt by the 
 body on the ground. It was that of a gentleman 
 whom I had sometimes seen in Bussy 's company. 
 He was indeed dead. The blood was already thick 
 ening about the hole that a sword had made in his 
 doublet. 
 
 The next day the whole court was talking of the 
 wrath of the Duke of Anjou at this assault upon his 
 first gentleman-in-waiting. I was ashamed of having 
 profited by the influence of De Quelus, who, I found, 
 had not recognized me on the previous evening. 
 Anjou's rage continued deep. He showed it by ab 
 senting himself from the wedding of Saint-Luc, one 
 of De Quelus's companions in the King's favor 
 and in the attack on Bussy. Catherine, knowing 
 how the King's authority was weakened by the 
 squabbles between him and his brother, took the 
 Duke out to Vincennes for a walk in the park and 
 a dinner at the chateau, that his temper might cool.
 
 68 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 She persuaded him to show a conciliatory spirit and 
 attend the marriage ball to be held that night in 
 the great hall of the Louvre. This was more than 
 she could persuade Marguerite to do, who accom 
 panied mother and son to Vincennes, sharing the 
 feelings of the Duke for three reasons, her love 
 for him, her hatred for her brother, the King, and 
 her friendship for Bussy d'Amboise. It would have 
 been well had the Duke been, like his sister, proof 
 against his mother's persuasion. For, when he ar 
 rived at the ball, he was received by the King's 
 gentlemen with derisive looks, and one of them; 
 smiling insolently in the Duke's piggish, pock 
 marked face, said, " Doubtless you have come so 
 late because the night is most favorable to your 
 appearance." 
 
 Suppose yourself in the Duke's place, and imagine 
 his resentment. He turned white and left the ball. 
 Catherine must have had to use her utmost powers 
 to keep peace in the royal family the next day. 
 
 On the second morning after the ball, I heard, from 
 De Rilly, that the King had put his brother under 
 arrest, and kept him guarded in the Duke's own- 
 apartment, lest he should leave Paris and lead the 
 rebellion which the King had to fear, not only on 
 its own account, but because of the further disrepute 
 into which it would bring him with his people. The 
 King, doubtless, soon saw, or was made to see, that
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 69 
 
 this conduct towards his brother who had many 
 supporters in France and was then affianced to 
 Queen Elizabeth of England would earn only 
 condemnation ; for, on the day after the arrest, he 
 caused the court to assemble in Catherine's apart 
 ments, and there De Quelus went ironically through 
 the form of an apology to the Duke, and a reconcilia 
 tion with Bussy. The exaggerated embrace which 
 Bussy gave De Quelus made everybody laugh, and 
 showed that this peace-making was not to be taken 
 seriously. Soon after it, Bussy d'Amboise and sev 
 eral of his followers left PaYis. 
 
 The next thing I saw, which had bearing on 
 the difference between the King and Monsieur his 
 brother, was the procession of penitents in which 
 Monsieur accompanied the King through the streets, 
 after the hollow reconciliation. I could scarcely 
 convince myself that the sanctimonious-looking per 
 son, in coarse penitential robe, heading the pro 
 cession through the mire and over the stones of 
 Paris, from shrine to shrine, was the dainty King 
 whom I had beheld in sumptuous raiment in the 
 gallery of the Louvre. The Duke of Anjou, who 
 wore ordinary attire, seemed to take to this mum 
 mery like a bear, ready to growl at any moment. 
 His demeanor was all that the King's gentlemen 
 could have needed as a subject for their quips and 
 jokes.
 
 7O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Two evenings after this, I was drinking in the 
 public room of an inn, near my lodgings in the town, 
 when a young gentleman named Malerain, who, 
 though not a Scot, was yet one of the Scotch body 
 guard, sat down at my table to share a bottle with 
 me. 
 
 " More amusement at the palace," he said to me. 
 " To think that, any one of these nights, I may be 
 compelled to use force against the person of the 
 King's brother, and that some day he may be King ! 
 I wonder if he will then bear malice ? " 
 
 "What is the new trouble at the Louvre?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " It is only the old trouble. Monsieur has been 
 muttering again, I suppose, and this, with the fact 
 that Bussy d'Amboise keeps so quiet outside of 
 Paris, has led the King to fear that Monsieur has 
 planned to escape to the country. At least, it has 
 been ordered that every member of the Duke's 
 household, who does not have to attend at his retir 
 ing, must leave the palace at night ; and Messieurs 
 de 1'Archant, De Losses, and the other captains, have 
 received orders from the King that, if Monsieur 
 attempts to go out after dark, he must be stopped. 
 Suppose it becomes my duty to stop him ? That 
 will be pleasant, will it not ? To make it worse, 
 I am devoted to a certain damsel who is devoted to 
 Queen Marguerite, who is devoted to Monsieur, her
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. /I 
 
 brother. And here I am inviting misfortune, too, 
 by drinking wine on the first Friday in Lent. I 
 ought to have followed the example of the King, 
 who has been doing penance all day in the chapel 
 of the Hdtel de Bourbon." 
 
 " Let us hope that the King will be rewarded for 
 his penance by the submission of Monsieur. I, for 
 one, hope that if Monsieur attempts to get away, he 
 will run across some Scotchman of the Guard who 
 will not scruple to impede a prince of France. For 
 if he should lead a Huguenot army against the King, 
 I, as one of the Guards, might be called on to oppose 
 my fellow-Protestants." 
 
 " Oh, the Duke does not wish to join the Hugue 
 nots. All he desires is to go to the Netherlands, 
 where a throne awaits him if he will do a little 
 fighting for it." 
 
 " I fear he would rather revenge himself on the 
 King for what he has had to endure at court." 
 
 Presently Malerain left to go on duty at the 
 Louvre, and soon I followed, to take up my station 
 in sight of the window where Mile. d'Arency slept. 
 The night, which had set in, was very dark, and gusts 
 of cold wind came up from the Seine. The place 
 where, in my infatuation and affectation, I kept my 
 lover's watch, was quite deserted. The Louvre 
 loomed up gigantic before me, the lights gleaming 
 feebly in a few of its many windows, serving less
 
 /2 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 to relieve its sombre aspect than to suggest unknown, 
 and, perhaps, sinister doings within. 
 
 I laugh at myself now for having maintained those 
 vigils by night beneath a court lady's window ; but 
 you will presently see that, but for this boyish folly, 
 my body would have been sleeping in its grave these 
 many years past, and I should have never come to 
 my greatest happiness. 
 
 Suddenly my attention was attracted to another 
 window than that on which I had fixed my gaze. 
 This other window appertained to the apartments 
 of the King's sister, Queen Marguerite, and what 
 caused me to transfer my attention to it was the 
 noise of its being opened. Then a head was thrust 
 out of it, the small and graceful head of Margue 
 rite herself. She looked down at the moat beneath, 
 and in either direction, and apparently saw no one, 
 I being quite in shadow ; then she drew her head in. 
 
 Immediately a rope was let down into the moat, 
 whose dry bed was about five times a tall man's 
 length below the window, which was on the second 
 story. Out of the window came a man of rather 
 squat figure, who let himself boldly and easily down 
 the rope. As soon as he had reached the bed of 
 the moat, he was followed out of the window and 
 down the rope by a second man, who came bung- 
 lingly, as if in great trepidation. This person, in 
 his haste, let go the rope before he was quite down,
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 73 
 
 but landed on his feet. Then a third figure came 
 out from the chamber and down the cable, where 
 upon Marguerite's head again appeared in the open 
 ing, and I could see the heads of two waiting-women 
 behind her. But the Queen of Navarre manifestly 
 had no intention of following the three men. These 
 now clambered up the side of the moat, and the one 
 who had been first down turned and waved her a 
 silent adieu, which she returned with a graceful 
 gesture of her partly bare arm. The three men 
 then rapidly plunged into one of the abutting streets 
 and were gone. All this time I stood inactive and 
 unobserved. 
 
 Marguerite remained at the window to cast another 
 look around. Suddenly, from out the darkness at 
 the base of the Louvre, as if risen from the very 
 earth at the bottom of the moat, sprang the figure 
 of a man, who started toward the guard-house as 
 if his life depended on his speed. Marguerite drew 
 her head in at once with a movement of great alarm. 
 An instant later the rope was drawn up and the 
 window closed. 
 
 Two conjectures came into my head, one after the 
 other, each in a flash. The one was that Marguerite 
 had availed herself of the fraternal quarrel that occu 
 pied the King's attention to plan an escape to her 
 husband, King Henri of Navarre, and that these 
 three men had gone from a consultation in her
 
 74 AN ENEMY TO THE KING, 
 
 apartments to further the project. The other con 
 jecture was that they were but some of Monsieur's 
 followers who had transgressed the new rule, requir 
 ing their departure from the palace at nightfall, and 
 had taken this means of leaving to avoid discovery. 
 If the former conjecture embodied the truth, my 
 sympathies were with the plot ; for it little pleased 
 me that the wife of our Huguenot leader should 
 remain at the French court, a constant subject of 
 scandalous gossip. If the second guess was correct, 
 I was glad of an opportunity to avert, even slight, 
 trouble from the wilful but charming head of Mar 
 guerite. In either case, I might serve a beautiful 
 woman, a queen, the wife of a Huguenot king. 
 Certainly, if that man, paid spy or accidental inter 
 loper, should reach the guard-house with information 
 that three men had left the Louvre by stealth, the 
 three men might be overtaken and imprisoned, and 
 great annoyance brought to Marguerite. All this 
 occupied my mind but an instant. Before the man 
 had taken ten steps, I was after him. 
 
 He heard me coming, looked around, saw my 
 hand already upon my sword-hilt, and shouted, "The 
 guard ! Help ! " I saw that, to avoid a disclosure, 
 I must silence him speedily ; yet I dared not kill 
 him, for he might be somebody whose dead body 
 found so near the palace would lead to endless in 
 vestigations, and in the end involve Marguerite,
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 75 
 
 for suppose that the King had set him to watch her? 
 Therefore I called to him, - " Stop and face me, or 
 I will split you as we run ! " 
 
 The man turned at once, as if already feeling my 
 sword-point entering his back. Seeing that I had 
 not even drawn that weapon, he, himself, drew a 
 dagger and raised it to strike. But I was too quick 
 and too long of arm for him. With my gloved fist 
 I gave him a straight blow on the side of the chin, 
 and he dropped like a felled tree, at the very moat's 
 edge, over which I rolled him that he might recover 
 in safety from the effects of the shock. 
 
 I knew that, when he should awake, he would not 
 dare inform the guard, for the three men would then 
 be far away, and he would have no evidence to 
 support his story. He would only put himself in 
 danger of having fabricated a false accusation against 
 the King's sister. 
 
 I deemed it best to go from the vicinity of the 
 Louvre at once, and I did so, with a last wistful look 
 at the windows behind which Mile. d'Arency might 
 or might not be reposing. I did not reappear there 
 until the next morning. The first person I then 
 met was Malerain, who was coming from the church 
 of St. Germain 1'Auxerrois, where he had been mak 
 ing up for previous neglect of devotions. 
 
 "Well," I said, as I stood before him, and twisted 
 my up-shooting mustaches, in unconscious imitation
 
 76 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 of him, " I trust you found your quarter on duty last 
 night an easy one. You must thank me for saving 
 you some labor." 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked, with a look of 
 sudden interest. 
 
 " Nothing, only that you might have been called 
 on to give chase to some flying bird or other, if I 
 had not knocked down a rascal who was running to 
 inform the guard." 
 
 "And you saw the bird fly?" he said, with in 
 creasing astonishment. 
 
 "From an opening in that great cage," I replied, 
 looking towards the Louvre. 
 
 "Then I, for myself, am glad you knocked down 
 the said rascal who would have made falcbns of 
 us to bring the bird down. But be more cautious. 
 Suppose what you did should reach the ears of the 
 King?" 
 
 "Why should the King concern himself?" 
 
 " Monsieur, is it possible that you don't know that 
 the bird that flew from the Louvre last night was 
 the Duke of Anjou ? " 
 
 It was now my turn to stare in astonishment. 
 
 "But," I said, "what use for him to leave the pal 
 ace ? There would be the gates of Paris to pass." 
 
 " There is more than one way to cross the fortifi 
 cations of Paris, especially when one has such an 
 ally as Bussy d'Amboise, free, to arrange matters.
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 77 
 
 Monsieur is at this moment certainly on his way to 
 some stronghold of his own. The King is mad with 
 rage. Queen Marguerite is looking innocent and 
 astonished, but I'll wager she had a hand in this 
 evasion. My friend, I am under obligations to 
 you ! " 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 "Why, since Queen Marguerite undoubtedly re 
 joices at her favorite brother's escape, and you 
 helped to make it good, she owes you gratitude. So 
 do all her maids, who, naturally, share in her feelings 
 and benefit by her joy. Now, that gratitude extends 
 of course to your friends, of whom I am one. There 
 fore a good turn is due me from one of those maids 
 in particular, and for that I am obliged to you ! " 
 
 I laughed at this fantastic extension of a debt of 
 gratitude. "Doubtless," I said; "but since neither 
 Marguerite nor the maid knows anything about my 
 share in the matter, I don't see how you are going 
 to collect the debt." 
 
 Malerain said nothing, but there was already that 
 in his mind which, absurd as it might seem at that 
 time, was to save me when death should rise threat 
 eningly about me on every side. It is a world in 
 which much comes from little. 
 
 I was somewhat agitated at realizing that I had 
 been the means of aiding an escape which might result 
 in opposing the troops of the King to those of cer-
 
 78 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 tain Huguenot leaders ; but this thought was sud 
 denly driven from my mind by a sight which caused 
 me to leave Malerain abruptly, and make for one of 
 the streets that led from the Louvre to the midst 
 of the town. 
 
 It was Mile. d'Arency, mounted on a plumed 
 horse, with tassellated trappings, which was led by 
 a young equerry who wore Catherine's colors, and 
 followed by two mounted lackeys in similar livery. 
 Beside her rode the stout, elderly woman who usually 
 attended her. Mile. d'Arency wore a mask of black 
 velvet, but that could not conceal her identity from 
 eyes to which every line of her pretty head, every 
 motion of her graceful person, had become familiar 
 in actual contemplation and in dreams. Her cloak 
 and gown were, alike, of embroidered velvet of the 
 color of red wine, as was the velvet toque which sat 
 perched on her dark brown hair. 
 
 I followed her at some distance, resolved to find 
 an opportunity for a seemingly accidental meeting. I 
 supposed that she was going to visit some of the 
 shops, perhaps for the Queen-mother, perhaps for 
 herself. 
 
 She led me on and on, until I began to wonder 
 what could be her destination. She avoided the 
 streets of fine shops, such as were patronized by 
 the court, skirted market-places, and continued, in a 
 general easterly direction, until she had crossed both
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 79 
 
 the Rue St. Denis and the Rue St. Martin. At last, 
 turning out of the Rue St. Antoine, she reached, by 
 a little street lined with bakeries, a quiet square be 
 fore a small church, of which I never even learned 
 the name. She and the stout woman dismounted, 
 and entered the church, leaving her male attendants 
 outside with the horse. 
 
 "Oho," I mused, stopping at the door of a pastry 
 cook's at the place where the little street joined the 
 square ; " she chooses an obscure place for her devo 
 tions. Evidently she prefers to mingle solitude with 
 them, so I must not disturb her." 
 
 I decided, therefore, to wait at the pastry-cook's till 
 she should come out, and then to encounter her as if 
 by chance. I would have, at least, a word in payment 
 for having come so far afoot. 
 
 The pastry-cook must have been convinced of two 
 things before Mile. d'Arency came out of church : 
 first, that his fortune was made if this new customer, 
 myself, should only continue to patronize him ; sec 
 ond, that there existed, at least, one human stomach 
 able to withstand unlimited quantities of- his wares. 
 
 I stood back in the shop, devouring one doughy 
 invention after another, with my ear alert for the 
 sound of her horse's hoofs on the stones. At last it 
 occurred to me that she might have left the square 
 by some other street. I made for the door of the 
 shop to look. As I did so, a man rapidly passed
 
 80 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the shop, going from the square towards the Rue 
 St. Antoine. Was not that figure known to me ? I 
 hastened to the street. My first glance was towards 
 the church. There stood her horse, and her three 
 attendants were walking up and down in the sun 
 light. Then I looked after the man ; I thought that 
 the figure looked like that of De Noyard. 
 
 He disappeared into the Rue St. Antoine, having 
 given me no opportunity to see his face. I would 
 have followed, to make sure, roused into an intoler 
 able jealousy at the idea of a secret meeting between 
 Mile. d'Arency and him, but that I now heard the 
 full melodious voice of the lady herself. Looking 
 around, I saw her on the steps of the church, 
 with her middle-aged companion. At that instant 
 her eyes met mine. 
 
 I advanced, with an exaggerated bow, sweeping 
 the stones of the street with the plumes of my 
 hat. 
 
 " So it is true ! " I said, making no effort to 
 control my agitation, and restraining my voice 
 only that the lackeys might not hear ; " you love 
 that man!" 
 
 She looked at me steadily for a moment, and then 
 said, " Do you mean M. de Noyard ? " 
 
 "Ah, you admit it!" 
 
 "I admit nothing. But if I did love him, what 
 right would you have to call me to account?"
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 8l 
 
 "The right of a man who adores you, mademoi 
 selle." 
 
 " That is no right at all. A man's right concern 
 ing a woman must be derived from her own actions. 
 But come inside the church, monsieur." 
 
 She made a gesture to her attendants, and ree'n- 
 tered the church. I followed her. We stood together 
 before the font in the dim light. 
 
 "And now," she continued, facing me, "suppose 
 I grant that I have so acted as to give you a right to 
 question me ; what then ? Is it my fault that you 
 have followed' me this morning ? Is it, then, any 
 more my fault that I have been followed, also, by 
 M. de Noyard?" 
 
 " But he must have been here before you." 
 
 " What does that prove ? A score of people in 
 the Louvre knew yesterday that I was coming to 
 this church to-day." 
 
 " But so deserted a church, so out of the way ! 
 Who would come here from the Louvre but for a 
 tryst ? " 
 
 She smiled, indulgently. "Can a thing have no 
 cause except the obvious one ? " she said. " I visit 
 this church once every month, because, obscure 
 though it be, it is associated with certain events 
 in the history of my ancestors." 
 
 "But," I went on, though beginning to feel 
 relieved, "if M. de Noyard was thrusting his
 
 82 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 presence on you, why did he leave before you 
 did ? " 
 
 " Probably because he knew that I would not 
 leave the church while he remained to press his 
 company upon me outside." 
 
 The low tones that we had to use, on account of 
 our surroundings, gave our conversation an air of con 
 fidence and secrecy that was delicious to me ; and 
 now her voice fell even lower, when she added : 
 
 " I take the pains to explain these things to you, 
 monsieur, because I do not wish you to think that 
 I have intrigues ; " and she regarded me fixedly with 
 her large gray eyes, which in the dimness of the 
 place were darker and more lustrous than usual. 
 
 Delightfully thrilled at this, I made to take her 
 hand and stoop to kiss it, but stopped for a last 
 doubt. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, " I think you only the 
 most adorable woman in the world. But there is 
 one thing which has cost me many a sleepless hour, 
 many a jealous surmise. If I could be reassured as 
 to the nature of your errand that night when I first 
 saw you " 
 
 " Oh ! " she laughed, " I was coming from an 
 astrologer's." 
 
 "But you were not coming from the direction of 
 Ruggieri's house." 
 
 "There are many astrologers in Paris, besides
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 83 
 
 Ruggieri. Although the Queen-mother relies im 
 plicitly on him, one may sometimes get a more 
 pleasing prediction from another ; or, another may 
 be clear on a point on which he is vague." 
 
 " But the hour - 
 
 " I took the time when I was not on duty, and he 
 kept me late. It was for a friend that I visited the 
 astrologer, a friend who was required in the palace 
 all that evening. The astrologer had to be consulted 
 that night, as my friend wished to be guided in a 
 course that she would have to take the next morning. 
 Now, Monsieur Curiosity, are you satisfied ? " 
 
 This time I took her hand and pressed my lips 
 upon it. 
 
 She was silent for a moment, noting the look of 
 admiration on my face. Then, quickly, and in little 
 more than a whisper, she said : 
 
 " I have answered your questions, though not ad 
 mitting your right to ask them. Would you know 
 how to gain that right ? " 
 
 " Tell me ! " I said, my heart beating rapidly with 
 elation. 
 
 " Challenge M. de Noyard, and kill him ! " 
 
 I stared in astonishment. 
 
 " Now you may know whether or not I love him," 
 she added. 
 
 " But, mademoiselle, why " 
 
 "Ah, that is the one thing about which I must
 
 84 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 always refuse to be questioned ! I ask you this 
 service. Will you grant it ? " 
 
 "If he has given you offence," I said, "certainly I 
 will seek him at once." 
 
 " Not a word of me is to be said between you ! 
 He must not know that I have spoken to you." 
 
 "But a man is not to be killed without reason." 
 
 "A pretext is easily invented." 
 
 " Certainly, a pretext to hide the cause of a 
 quarrel from the world. But the real cause ought to 
 be known to both antagonists." 
 
 " I shall not discuss what ought or ought not 
 to be. I ask you, will you fight this man and try 
 to kill him ? I request nothing unusual, men are 
 killed every day in duels. You are a good swords 
 man ; Bussy d'Amboise himself has said so. Come ! 
 will you do this ? " She looked up at me with a 
 slight frown of repressed petulance. 
 
 " If you will assure me that he has affronted you, 
 and permit me to let him know, privately, the cause 
 of my quarrel." 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, with irritation, " must a 
 lady give a hundred reasons when she requests 
 a service of a gentleman ? " 
 
 " One sufficient reason, when it is a service like 
 this." 
 
 " Well, I shall give none. I desire his death, few 
 gentlemen would ask a further reason."
 
 STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY. 85 
 
 " I had not thought you so cruel, mademoiselle, as 
 to desire the death of any man." 
 
 " God forbid that I should desire the death of any 
 other man ! So, monsieur, I must understand that 
 you refuse to serve me in this ? " 
 
 Her contemptuous look made me sigh. " Can you 
 not see, mademoiselle, that to resolve deliberately 
 and secretly on a man's death, and with premedita 
 tion to create a pretext for a challenge, is little better 
 than assassination ? " 
 
 "A fine excuse to avoid risking your life ! " 
 
 Again I had to endure a look of profound scorn 
 from her. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I replied, patiently, " I would that 
 you might see how ready I am to fight when an 
 affront is given me or some one needs a defender." 
 
 "Oh!" she said, with an ironical smile. "Then 
 to show yourself a lion against De Noyard, you re 
 quire only that he shall affront you, or that some one 
 shall need a defender against him ! Suppose that / 
 should ever be in such need ? " 
 
 " You know that in your defence I would fight an 
 army." 
 
 Her smile now lost its irony, and she assumed a 
 look of conciliation, which I was both surprised and 
 rejoiced to behold. 
 
 "Well, monsieur, it is pleasant to know that, if 
 you will not take the offensive for me, you will, at
 
 86 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 least, act readily on the defensive if the occasion 
 comes." 
 
 Much relieved at the turn the conversation had 
 taken, I now undertook to continue it to my advan 
 tage. After some bantering, maintained with gaiety 
 on her part, she said that she must return to the 
 Louvre. Then, as she would not have me accompany 
 her in the streets, I begged her to appoint another 
 meeting. She evaded my petition at first, but, 
 when I took her hand and refused to release it until 
 she should grant my request, she said, after a little 
 submissive shrug of her shoulders : 
 
 " Very well. Follow me, at a distance, from this 
 church, and observe a house before which I shall 
 stop for a moment as if to adjust my cloak. It is a 
 house that has been taken by a friend of mine, one 
 of the Queen-mother's ladies. I shall be there to 
 morrow afternoon." 
 
 "Alas ! To-morrow I shall be on duty till six in 
 the evening." 
 
 "Then come at seven. Knock three times on the 
 street door." And with that she slipped her hand 
 from mine, and hastened lightly out of the church. 
 I stood alone by the font, delighted and bewildered. 
 There was so much to mystify me that I did not even 
 search my mind forexplanations. I thought my hap 
 piness about to be attained, and left it for the future 
 to explain, as it did !
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE WAS ENLIGHTENED IN THE 
 DARK. 
 
 IT was already dark when I started, on the even 
 ing appointed, for the house indicated by Mile. 
 d'Arency. I went without attendance, as was my 
 custom, relying on my sword, my alertness of eye, 
 and my nimbleness of foot. I had engaged a lackey, 
 for whose honesty De Rilly had vouched, but he was 
 now absent on a journey to La Tournoire, whither I 
 had sent him with a message to my old steward. I 
 have often wondered at the good fortune which 
 preserved me from being waylaid, by thieving ras 
 cals, on my peregrinations, by night, through Paris 
 streets. About this very time several gentlemen, 
 who went well attended, were set upon and robbed 
 almost within sight of the quarters of the provost's 
 watch ; and some of these lost their lives as well as 
 the goods upon their persons. Yet I went fearlessly, 
 and was never even threatened with attack. 
 
 On the way to the house, I reviewed, for the hun 
 dredth time, the conversation in the church. There 
 
 87
 
 88 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 were different conjectures to be made. Mile. d'A- 
 rency may have made that surprising request merely 
 to convince me that she did not love De Noyard, and 
 intending, subsequently, to withdraw it ; or it may 
 have sprung from a caprice, a desire to ascertain 
 how far I was at her bidding, women have, thought 
 lessly, set men such tasks from mere vanity, lacking 
 the sympathy to feel how precious to its owner is 
 any human life other than their own ; or she may 
 have had some substantial reason to desire his death, 
 something to gain by it, something to lose through 
 his continuing to live. Perhaps she had encouraged 
 his love and had given him a promise from which 
 his death would be the means of release easiest to 
 her, for women will, sometimes, to secure the 
 smallest immunity for themselves, allow the great 
 est calamities to others. This arises less from an 
 active cruelty than from a lack of imagination, an 
 inability to suppose themselves in the places of 
 others. I soon felt the uselessness of searching, in 
 my own mind, for the motive of Mile. d'Arency's 
 desire, or pretence of desire, for the death of De 
 Noyard. What had passed between them I could 
 not guess. So, after the manner of youth, I gave 
 up the question, satisfied with knowing that I had 
 before me an interview with a charming woman, and 
 willing to wait for disclosures until events should 
 offer them.
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 89 
 
 The street in which the house was situated was 
 entirely dark and deserted when I stepped into it. 
 The house was wider than its neighbors, and each 
 of its upper stories had two chambers overlooking 
 the street. At the window of one of these cham 
 bers, on the second story, a light shone. It was 
 the only light visible in any of the houses, all of 
 which frowned down menacingly ; and hence it was 
 like a beacon, a promise of cheer and warmth in the 
 midst of this black, cold Paris. 
 
 I knocked three times on the street door, as she 
 had directed me. Presently the wicket at the side 
 of the door was opened, and a light was held up 
 to it, that my face might be seen by a pair of eyes 
 that peered out through the aperture. A moment 
 later the bolts of the door were drawn, and I was 
 let in by the possessor of the eyes. This was the 
 elderly woman who always attended Mile. d'Arency 
 when the latter was abroad from the palace. She 
 had invariably shown complete indifference to me, 
 not appearing aware of my existence, and this time 
 she said only : 
 
 "This way, monsieur." 
 
 Protecting the flame of her lamp with her hand, 
 she led me forward to a narrow staircase and we 
 ascended, stopping at a landing on which opened 
 the second story chamber whose street window had 
 shone with light. She gave three knocks at the
 
 90 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 door of this chamber. At the last knock, her lamp 
 went out. 
 
 " Curse the wind ! " she muttered. 
 
 So I stood with her, on the landing, in darkness, 
 expecting the door in front of me to open, immedi 
 ately, and admit me to the lighted chamber. 
 
 Suddenly I heard a piercing scream from within 
 the chamber. It was the voice of Mile. d'Arency. 
 
 " Help ! Help ! " she cried. " My God, he will 
 kill me!" 
 
 This was followed by one long series of screams, 
 and I could hear her running about the chamber as 
 though she were fleeing from a pursuer. 
 
 I stood for an instant, startled. 
 
 "Good God !" cried the old woman at my elbow. 
 " An assassin ! Her enemies have planned it ! 
 Monsieur, save her life ! " 
 
 And the dame began pounding on the door, as if 
 to break into the room to assist her mistress. 
 
 I needed no more than this example. Discover 
 ing that the door was locked on the inside, and 
 assuming that Mile. d'Arency, in the flight which 
 she maintained around the room, could not get an 
 opportunity to draw the bolt, I threw my weight 
 forward, and sent the door flying open on its hinges. 
 
 To my astonishment, the chamber was in complete 
 darkness. Mile. d'Arency had doubtless knocked 
 the light over in her movements around the room.
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 9! 
 
 She was still screaming at the top of her voice, 
 and running from one side to another. The white 
 ness of the robe she wore made it possible to descry 
 her in the absence of light. 
 
 I stood for a second, just inside the threshold, 
 and drew my sword. At first, I could not see by 
 whom or what she was threatened; but I heard 
 heavy footsteps, as of some one following her in 
 her wild course about the place. Then I made 
 out, vaguely, the figure of a man. 
 
 " Fear not, mademoiselle ! " I cried. 
 
 "Oh, monsieur!" she screamed. "Save me! 
 Save my life ! " 
 
 I thrust my sword at the figure of the man. An 
 ejaculation of pain told me that it touched flesh. A 
 second later, I heard a sword slide from its scabbard, 
 and felt the wind of a wild thrust in my direction. 
 
 At this moment, Mile d'Arency appeared between 
 me and the street window of the room. There was 
 enough light from the sky to enable her head and 
 shoulders to stand out darkly against the space of 
 the window. Her head was moving with the violent 
 coming and going of her breath, and her shoulders 
 were drawn up in an attitude of the greatest fright. 
 Is it any wonder that I did not stop to ascertain 
 who or what her assailant might be, or how he had 
 come there ? I could make out only that the man 
 in the darkness was a large and heavy one, and
 
 92 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 wielded a swift blade. All other thoughts were 
 lost in the immediate necessity of dealing with him. 
 The extreme terror that she showed gave me a 
 sense of his being a formidable antagonist ; the 
 prompt response that he had given to my own 
 thrust showed that he was not to be quelled by a 
 mere command. In fine, there was nothing to do 
 but fight him as best I could in the blackness ; and 
 I was glad for so early an opportunity to show Mile. 
 d'Arency how ready I was to do battle for her when 
 I found her threatened with danger. 
 
 From the absence of any sound or other demon 
 stration, except what was made by Mile. d'Arency 
 and the man and myself, I knew that we three were 
 the only ones in the room. The elderly woman had 
 not entered with me, a fact whose strangeness, in 
 view of the great desire she had first evinced to 
 reach her mistress's side, did not occur to me until 
 afterward. 
 
 I made another thrust at the man, but, despite 
 the- darkness, he parried it with his sword; and a 
 quick backward step was all that saved me from 
 his prompt reply. Angered at having to give ground 
 in the presence of the lady, I now attacked in turn, 
 somewhat recklessly, but with such good luck as 
 to drive him back almost to the window. Mile. 
 d'Arency gave another terrified scream when he 
 came near her, and she ran past me towards the
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 93 
 
 door of the apartment. Both my antagonist and 
 myself were now beginning to have a clearer im 
 pression of each other's outlines, and there was 
 sharp sword-work between us by the window. As 
 we stood there, breathing rapidly with our exertion 
 and excitement, I heard the door close through 
 which I had entered. I knew from this that Mile. 
 d'Arency had left the chamber, and I was glad that 
 she was out of danger. It was natural that she 
 should close the door, instinct impelling her to put 
 any possible barrier between her assailant and her 
 self. 
 
 The man and myself were alone together to main 
 tain the fight which, having once entered, and being 
 roused to the mood of contest, I had no thought of 
 discontinuing now that Mile. d'Arency was out of 
 immediate danger. It had reached a place at which 
 it could be terminated only by the disarming, the 
 death, or the disabling of one of us. 
 
 I gradually acquired the power of knowing all 
 my opponent's movements, despite the darkness. 
 I supposed that he was equipped with dagger as 
 well as with sword, but as he made no move to 
 draw the shorter weapon, I did not have recourse 
 to mine. Though I would not take an advantage 
 over him, even in the circumstances, yet I was not 
 willing to be at a disadvantage. Therefore, as he 
 was not encumbered with cloak or mantle, I em-
 
 94 A N ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 ployed a breathing moment to tear off my own cloak 
 and throw it aside, not choosing to use it on my left 
 arm as a shield unless he had been similarly guarded. 
 
 So we lunged and parried in the darkness, making 
 no sound but by our heavy breathing and an occa 
 sional ejaculation and the tramping of our feet, the 
 knocking of our bodies against unseen pieces of fur 
 niture, and the clashing of our blades when they met. 
 Each of us fenced cautiously at times, and at times 
 took chances recklessly. 
 
 Finally, in falling back, he came to a sudden stop 
 against a table, and the collision disturbed for an 
 instant his control over his body. In that instant I 
 felt a soft resistance encounter my sword and yield 
 to it. At once, with a feeling of revulsion, I drew 
 my sword out of the casing that his flesh had pro 
 vided, and stood back. Something wet and warm 
 sprinkled my face. The man gave a low moan and 
 staggered sideways over towards the window. Then 
 he plunged forward on his face. I stooped beside him 
 and turned him over on his back, wetting my gloves 
 with the blood that gushed from his wound and 
 soaked his doublet. At that moment a splash of 
 moonlight appeared on the floor, taking the shape 
 of the window. His head and shoulders lay in this 
 illumined space. I sprang back in horror, crying 
 out his name : 
 
 " De Noyard ! My God, it is you ! "
 
 LA TOUR NOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 95 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," he gasped, "it is De Noyard. 
 I have been trapped. I ought to have suspected." 
 
 " But I do not understand, monsieur. Surely you 
 could not have attacked Mile, d' Arency ? " 
 
 " Attacked her ! I came here by her appoint 
 ment ! " 
 
 " But her cry for help ?" 
 
 " It took me by complete surprise. There was a 
 knock on the door " 
 
 " Yes, mine. I, too, came by her appointment ! " 
 
 " Mademoiselle instantly put out the light and 
 began to scream. I thought that the knock fright 
 ened her ; then that she was mad. I followed to 
 calm her. You entered; you know the rest." 
 
 " But what does it mean ? " 
 
 " Can you not see ? " he said, with growing faint- 
 ness. "We have been tricked, I, by her pretense 
 of love and by this appointment, to my death ; you, 
 by a similar appointment and her screams, to make 
 yourself my slayer. I ought to have known ! she 
 belongs to Catherine, to the Queen-mother. Alas, 
 monsieur ! easily fooled is he who loves a woman ! " 
 
 Then I remembered what De Rilly had told me, 
 that De Noyard's counsels to the Duke of Guise 
 were an obstacle to Catherine's design of conciliat 
 ing that powerful leader, who aspired to the throne 
 on which her son was seated. 
 
 " No, no , monsieur ! " I cried, unwilling to admit
 
 96 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Mile. d'Arency capable of such a trick, or myself 
 capable of being so duped. " It cannot be that ; if 
 they had desired your death, they would have hired 
 assassins to waylay you." 
 
 Yet I knew that he was right. The strange re 
 quest that Mile. d'Arency had made of me in the 
 church was now explained. 
 
 A kind of smile appeared, for a moment, on 
 De Noyard's face, struggling with his expression of 
 weakness and pain. 
 
 "Who would go to the expense of hiring assas 
 sins," he said, "when honest gentlemen can be 
 tricked into doing the work for nothing ? More 
 over, when you hire assassins, you take the risk of 
 their selling your secret to the enemy. They are 
 apt to leave traces, too, and the secret instigator 
 of a deed may defeat its object by being found 
 out." 
 
 "Then I have to thank God that you are not 
 dead. You will recover, monsieur." 
 
 " I fear not, my son. I do not know how much 
 blood I lose at every word I speak. Parbleu ! you 
 have the art of making a mighty hole with that toy 
 of yours, monsieur ! " 
 
 This man, so grave and severe in the usual affairs 
 of life, could take on a tone of pleasantry while 
 enduring pain and facing death. 
 
 " Monsieur," I cried, in great distress, "you must
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 97 
 
 not die. I will save you. I shall go for a surgeon. 
 Oh, my God, monsieur, tell me what to do to save 
 your life ! " 
 
 "You will find my lackeys, two of them, at the 
 cabaret at the next corner. It is closed, but knock 
 hard and call for Jacques. Send him to me, and the 
 other for a surgeon." 
 
 De Noyard was manifestly growing weaker, and 
 he spoke with great difficulty. Not daring to trust 
 to any knowledge of my own as to immediate or 
 temporary treatment of his wound, I made the 
 greatest haste to follow his directions. I ran out 
 of the chamber, down the stairs, and out to the 
 street, finding the doors neither locked nor barred, 
 and meeting no human being. Mile. d'Arency and 
 her companion had silently disappeared. 
 
 I went, in my excitement, first to the wrong cor 
 ner. Then, discovering my blunder, I retraced my 
 steps, and at last secured adrr : ctance to the place 
 where De Noyard' s valets tarried. 
 
 To the man who opened the door, I said, "Are 
 you Jacques, the serving-man of Monsieur de Noy 
 ard ? " 
 
 " I am nobody's serving man," was the reply, in a 
 tone of indignation ; but a second man who had come 
 to the door spoke up, " I am Jacques." 
 
 "Hallo, Monsieur de la Tournoire," came a voice 
 from a group of men seated at a table. " Come and
 
 98 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 join us, and show my friends how you fellows of the 
 French Guards can drink ! " 
 
 It was De Rilly, very merry with wine. 
 
 "I cannot, De Rilly," I replied, stepping into the 
 place. "I have very important business elsewhere." 
 Then I turned to Jacques and said, quietly, " Go, at 
 once, to your master, and send your comrade for a 
 surgeon to follow you there. Do you know the 
 house in which he is ? " 
 
 The servant made no answer, but turned pale. 
 " Come ! " he said to another servant, who had joined 
 him from an obscure corner of the place. The two 
 immediately lighted torches and left, from which fact 
 I inferred that Jacques knew where to find his master. 
 
 " What is all this mystery ? " cried De Rilly, 
 jovially, rising and coming over to me, while the 
 man who had opened the door, and who was evi 
 dently the host, closed it and moved away. " Come, 
 warm yourself with a bottle ! Why, my friend, you 
 are as white as a ghost, and you look as if you had 
 been perspiring blood ! " 
 
 " I must go, at once, De Rilly. It is a serious 
 matter." 
 
 "Then hang me if I don't come, too!" he said, 
 suddenly sobered, and he grasped his cloak and 
 sword. "That is, unless I should be de trop" 
 
 " Come. I thank you," I said ; and we left the 
 place together.
 
 LA TOURNOIKE ENLIGHTENED. 99 
 
 " Whose blood is it ? " asked De Rilly, as we hur 
 ried along the narrow street, back to the house. 
 
 "That of M. de Noyard." 
 
 "What? A duel?" 
 
 " A kind of duel, a strange mistake ! " 
 
 " The devil ! Won't the Queen-mother give 
 thanks ! And won't the Duke of Guise be an- 
 
 "M. de Noyard is not dead yet. His wound 
 may not be fatal." 
 
 I led the way into the house and up the steps to 
 the apartment. It was now lighted up by the torch 
 which Jacques had brought. De Noyard was still 
 lying in the position in which he had been when I 
 left him. The servant stood beside him, looking 
 down at his face, and holding the torch so as to light 
 up the features. 
 
 " How do you feel now, monsieur ? " I asked, 
 hastening forward. 
 
 There was no answer. The servant raised his 
 eyes to me, and said, in a tone of unnatural calmness, 
 " Do you not see that he is dead, M. de la Tour- 
 noire ? " 
 
 Horror-stricken, I knelt beside the body. The 
 heart no longer beat; the face was still, the eyes 
 stared between unquivering lids, in the light of the 
 torch. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! I have killed him ! " I murmured.
 
 IOO AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "Come away. You can do nothing here," said 
 De Rilly, quietly. He caught me by the shoulder, 
 and led me out of the room. 
 
 " Let us leave this neighborhood as soon as pos 
 sible," he said, as we descended the stairs. " It is 
 most unfortunate that the valet knows your name. 
 He heard me speak.it at the tavern, and he will 
 certainly recall also that I hailed you as one of the 
 French Guards." 
 
 " Why is that unfortunate ? " I asked, still de 
 prived of thought by the horror of having killed so 
 honorable a gentleman, who had not harmed me. 
 
 " Because he can let the Duke of Guise know 
 exactly on whom to seek vengeance for the death 
 of De Noyard." 
 
 "The Duke of Guise will seek vengeance?" I 
 asked, mechanically, as we emerged from that fatal 
 house, and turned our backs upon it. 
 
 "Assuredly. He will demand your immediate 
 punishment. You must bespeak the King's pardon 
 as soon as possible. That is necessary, to protect 
 oneself, when one has killed one's antagonist in a 
 duel. The edicts still forbid duels, and one may be 
 made to pay for a victory with one's life, if the vic 
 tim's friends demand the enforcement of the law, 
 as in this case the Duke of Guise surely will de 
 mand." 
 
 " M. de Quelus can, doubtless, get me the King's
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. IOI 
 
 pardon," I said, turning my mind from the past 
 to the future, from regret to apprehension. The 
 necessity of considering my situation prevented me 
 from contemplating, at that time, the perfidy of 
 Mile. d'Arency, the blindness with which I had let 
 myself be deceived, or the tragic and humiliating ter 
 mination of my great love affair. 
 
 "If M. de Quelus is with you, you are safe from 
 the authorities. You will then have only to guard 
 against assassination at the hands of Guise's fol 
 lowers." 
 
 "I shall go to M. de Quelus early in the morn 
 ing," I said. 
 
 " By all means. And you will not go near your 
 lodgings until you have assured your safety against 
 arrest. You must reach the King before the Duke 
 can see him ; for the Duke will not fail to hint that, 
 in killing De Noyard, you were the instrument of 
 the King or of the Queen-mother. To disprove that, 
 the King would have to promise the Duke to give 
 you over to the authorities. And now that I think 
 of it, you must make yourself safe before the Queen- 
 mother learns of this affair, for she will advise the 
 King to act in such a way that the Duke cannot 
 accuse him of protecting you. My friend, it sud 
 denly occurs to me that you have got into a rather 
 deep hole ! " 
 
 "De Rilly," I asked, with great concern, "do you
 
 102 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 think that I was the instrument of Catherine de 
 Medici in this ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ! " was the emphatic answer. "The 
 fight was about a woman, was it not ? " 
 
 " A woman was the cause of it," I answered, with 
 a heavy sigh. " But how do you know ? " 
 
 " To tell the truth," he said, " many people have 
 been amused to see you make soft eyes at a certain 
 lady, and to see De Noyard do likewise. Neither 
 young men like you, nor older men like him, can 
 conceal these things." 
 
 Thus I saw that even De Rilly did not suspect 
 the real truth, and this showed me how deep was 
 the design of which I had been the tool. Every 
 body would lay the quarrel to rivalry in love. The 
 presence of so manifest a cause would prevent peo 
 ple from hitting on the truth. Mile. d'Arency had 
 trusted to my youth, agility, and supposed skill to 
 give me the victory in that fight in the dark ; and 
 then to circumstances to disclose who had done the 
 deed. " It was De Noyard's jealous rival," every 
 body would say. Having found a sufficient motive, 
 no one would take the trouble to seek the real 
 source, to trace the affair to the instigation of 
 Catherine de Medici. The alert mind of De Rilly, it 
 is true, divining the equally keen mind of the Duke 
 of Guise, had predicted that Guise might pretend 
 a belief in such instigation, and so force the King to
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 1 03 
 
 avenge De Noyard, in self-vindication. Mile. d'Arency 
 well knew that I would not incriminate a woman, 
 even a perfidious one, and counted also on my natural 
 unwillingness to reveal myself as the dupe that I had 
 been. Moreover, it would not be possible for me to 
 tell the truth in such a way that it would appear 
 probable. And what would I gain by telling the 
 truth ? The fact would remain that I was the slayer 
 of De Noyard, and, by accusing the instigators, I 
 would but compel them to demonstrate non-com 
 plicity ; which they could do only by clamoring for 
 my punishment. And how could I prove that things 
 were not exactly as they had appeared, that the 
 woman's screams were not genuine : that she was not 
 actually threatened by De Noyard ? Clearly as I 
 saw the truth, clearly as De Noyard had seen it in 
 his last moments, it could never be established by 
 evidence. 
 
 With bitter self-condemnation, and profound ran 
 cor against the woman whose tool I had been, I real 
 ized what an excellent instrument she had found for 
 her purpose of ridding her mistress of an obstacle. 
 
 It was not certain that the King, himself, had been 
 privy to his mother's design of causing De Noyard's 
 death. In such matters she often acted without 
 consulting him. Therefore, when De Quelus should 
 present my case to him as merely that of a duel over 
 a love affair, Henri would perhaps give me his assur-
 
 104 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 ances of safety, at once, and would hold himself bound 
 in honor to stand by them. All depended on secur 
 ing these before Catherine or the Duke of Guise 
 should have an opportunity to influence him to an 
 other course. 
 
 I felt, as I walked along with De Rilly, that, if I 
 should obtain immunity from the punishment pre 
 scribed by edict, I could rely on myself for pro 
 tection against any private revenge that the Duke 
 of Guise might plan. 
 
 De Rilly took me to a lodging in the Rue de 
 1'Autruche, not far from my own, which was in 
 the Rue St. Honore. Letting myself be com 
 manded entirely by him, I went to bed, but not 
 to sleep. I was anxious for morning to come, that 
 I might be off to the Louvre. I lay speculating 
 on the chances of my seeing De Quelus, and of 
 his undertaking to obtain the King's protection for 
 me. Though appalled at what I had done, I had 
 no wish to die, the youth in me cried for life ; 
 and the more I desired life, the more fearful I 
 became of failing to get De Quelus' s intercession. 
 
 I grew many years older in that night. In a 
 single flash, I had beheld things hitherto unknown 
 to me : the perfidy of which a woman was capable, 
 the falseness of that self-confidence and vanity which 
 may delude a man into thinking himself the con 
 queror of a woman's heart, the danger of going,
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 1 05 
 
 carelessly, on in a suspicious matter without looking 
 forward to possible consequences. I saw the folly 
 of thoughtlessness, of blind self-confidence, of reck 
 less trust in the honesty of others and the luck of 
 oneself. I had learned the necessity of caution, of 
 foresight, of suspicion ; and perhaps I should have 
 to pay for the lesson with my life. 
 
 Turning on the bed, watching the window for the 
 dawn, giving in my mind a hundred different forms 
 to the account with which I should make De Quelus 
 acquainted with the matter, I passed the most of 
 that night. At last, I fell asleep, and dreamt that 
 I had told De Quelus my story, and he had brought 
 me the King's pardon ; again, that I was engaged 
 in futile efforts to approach him ; again, that De 
 Noyard had come to life. When De Rilly awoke 
 me, it was broad daylight. 
 
 I dressed, and so timed my movements as to 
 reach the Louvre at the hour when De Quelus 
 would be about to officiate at the King's rising. 
 De Rilly left me at the gate, wishing me good 
 fortune. He had to go to oversee the labors of 
 some grooms in the King's stables. One of the 
 guards of the gate sent De Quelus my message. 
 I stood, in great suspense, awaiting the answer, fear 
 ing at every moment to see the Duke of Guise ride 
 into the Place du Louvre on his way to crave an 
 interview with the King.
 
 106 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 At last a page came across the court with orders 
 that I be admitted, and I was soon waiting in a gal 
 lery outside the apartments of the chamberlains. 
 After a time that seemed very long, De Quelus 
 came out to me, with a look of inquiry on his 
 face. 
 
 Ignoring the speech I had prepared for the occa 
 sion, I broke abruptly into the matter. 
 
 "M. de Quelus," I said, "last night, in a sudden 
 quarrel which arose out of a mistake, I was so un 
 fortunate as to kill M. de Noyard. It was neither a 
 duel nor a murder, each of us seemed justified in 
 attacking the other." 
 
 De Quelus did not seem displeased to hear of 
 De Noyard's death. 
 
 " What evidence is there against you ? " he asked. 
 
 "That of M. de Noyard's servant, to whom I 
 acknowledged that I had killed his master. Other 
 evidence may come up. What I have come to beg 
 is your intercession with the King " 
 
 " I understand," he said, without much interest. 
 " I shall bring up the matter before the King leaves 
 his bed." 
 
 "When may I expect to know?" I asked, not 
 knowing whether to be reassured or alarmed at his 
 indifference. 
 
 " Wait outside the King's apartments. I am go 
 ing there now," he replied.
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. IO/ 
 
 I followed him, saw him pass into the King's 
 suite, and had another season of waiting. This 
 was the longest and the most trying. I stood, now 
 tapping the floor with my foot, now watching the 
 halberdiers at the curtained door, while they glanced 
 indifferently at me. Various officers of the court, 
 whose duty or privilege it was to attend the King's 
 rising, passed in, none heeding me or guessing that 
 I waited there for the word on which my life de 
 pended. I examined the tapestry over and over again, 
 noticing, particularly, the redoubtable expression of 
 a horseman with lance in rest, and wondering how 
 he had ever emerged from the tower behind him, 
 of which the gateway was half his size. 
 
 A page came out of the doorway through which 
 De Quelus had disappeared. Did he bring word to 
 me ? No. He glanced at me casually, and passed 
 on, leaving the gallery at the other end. Presently 
 he returned, preceding Marguerite, the Queen of 
 Navarre, whom he had gone to summon. 
 
 " More trouble in the royal family," I said to my 
 self. The King must have scented another plot, to 
 have summoned his sister before the time for the 
 petite lev/e. I feared that this would hinder his 
 consideration of my case. 
 
 Suddenly a tall figure, wearing a doublet of cloth 
 of silver, gray velvet breeches, gray mantle, and gray 
 silk stockings, strode rapidly through the gallery, and
 
 108 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 curtly commanded the usher to announce him. While 
 awaiting the usher's return, he stood still, stroking 
 now his light mustaches, and now his fine, curly 
 blonde beard, which was little more than delicate 
 down on his chin. As his glance roved over the 
 gallery it fell for a moment on me, but he did not 
 know me, and his splendid blue eyes turned quickly 
 away. His face had a pride, a nobility, a subtlety 
 that I never saw united in another. He was four 
 inches more than six feet high, slender, and of per 
 fect proportion, erect, commanding, and in the flower 
 of youth. How I admired him, though my heart 
 sank at the sight of him ; for I knew he had come 
 to demand my death ! It was the Duke of Guise. 
 Presently the curtains parted, he passed in, and they 
 fell behind him. 
 
 And now my heart beat like a hammer on an 
 anvil. Had De Quelus forgotten me ? 
 
 Again the curtains parted. Marguerite came out, 
 but this time entirely alone. As soon as she had 
 passed the halberdiers, her eyes fell on me, but she 
 gave no sign of recognition. When she came near 
 me, she said, in a low tone, audible to me alone, and 
 without seeming to be aware of my presence : 
 
 " Follow me. Make no sign, - your life depends 
 on it ! " 
 
 She passed on, and turned out of the gallery 
 towards her own apartments. For a moment I
 
 LA TOURNOIRE ENLIGHTENED. 1 09 
 
 stood motionless ; then, with a kind of instinctive 
 sense of what ought to be done, for all thought 
 seemed paralyzed within me, I made as if to return 
 to the chamberlains' apartments, from which I had 
 come. Reaching the place where Marguerite's cor 
 ridor turned off, I pretended for an instant to be at a 
 loss which way to go ; then I turned in the direc 
 tion taken by Marguerite. If the halberdiers, at the 
 entrance to the King's apartments, saw me do this, 
 they could but think I had made a mistake, and it 
 was not their duty to come after me. Should I seek 
 to intrude whither I had no right of entrance, I 
 should encounter guards to hinder me. 
 
 Marguerite had waited for me in the corridor, out 
 of sight of the halberdiers. 
 
 " Quickly, monsieur ! " she said, and glided rapidly 
 on. She led me boldly to her own apartments and 
 through two or three chambers, passing, on the way, 
 guards, pages, and ladies in waiting, before whom I 
 had the wit to assume the mien of one who was 
 about to do some service for her, and had come to 
 receive instructions. So my entrance seemed to 
 pass as nothing remarkable. At last we entered a 
 cabinet, where I was alone with her. She opened 
 the door of a small closet. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said, " conceal yourself in this 
 closet until I return. I am going to be present at 
 the petite levte of the King. Do not stir, for they
 
 IIO AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 will soon be searching the palace, with orders for 
 your arrest. Had you not come after me, at once, 
 two of the Scotch Guards would have found you 
 where you waited. I slipped out while they were 
 listening to the orders that my mother added to the 
 King's." 
 
 I fell on my knee, within the closet. 
 
 " Madame," I said, trembling with gratitude, 
 "you are more than a queen. You are an angel 
 of goodness." 
 
 " No ; I am merely a woman who does not forget 
 an obligation. I have heard, from one of my maids, 
 who heard it from a friend of yours, how you knocked 
 a too inquisitive person into the moat beneath my 
 window. I had to burn the rope that was used that 
 night, but I have since procured another, which may 
 have to be put to a similar purpose ! " 
 
 And, with a smile, she shut the closet door upon 
 me.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED FROM PARIS. 
 
 I HEARD the key turn in the lock, and the Queen 
 of Navarre leave the cabinet. She took the key 
 with her, so that a tiny beam of light came through 
 the keyhole, giving my dark hiding-place its only 
 illumination. 
 
 I felt complete confidence both in Marguerite's 
 show of willingness to save me, and in her ability 
 to do so. All I could do was to wait, and leave my 
 future in her hands. 
 
 After a long time, I heard steps in the cabinet 
 outside the closet door, the beam of light from the 
 keyhole was cut off, the key turned again, the door 
 opened, and Marguerite again stood before me. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, "that we may talk without 
 danger, remain in the closet. I will leave the door 
 slightly ajar, thus, and will sit here, near it, with my 
 ' Book of Hours,' as if reading aloud to myself. 
 Should any one come, I can lock your door again and 
 hide the key. Hark ! be silent, monsieur ! " 
 
 And as she spoke, she shut the door, locked it, 
 Ml
 
 112 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 drew out the key, and sat down. I listened to learn 
 what had caused this act of precaution. 
 
 " Madame," I heard some one say, " M. de 
 1'Archant desires, by order of the King, to search 
 your apartments for a man who is to be arrested, 
 and who is thought to have secreted himself some 
 where in the palace." 
 
 " Let him enter," said Marguerite. My heart 
 stood still. Then I heard her say, in a tone of 
 pleasantry : 
 
 "What, M. le Capitain, is there another St. Bar 
 tholomew, that people choose my apartments for 
 refuge ? " 
 
 "This time it is not certain that the fugitive is 
 here," replied Captain de 1'Archant, of the body 
 guard. " He is known to have been in the palace 
 this morning, and no one answering his description 
 has been seen to leave by any of the gates. It was, 
 indeed, a most sudden and mysterious disappearance ; 
 and it is thought that he has run to cover in some 
 chamber or other. We are looking everywhere." 
 
 "Who is the man ?" asked Marguerite, in a tone 
 of indifference. 
 
 " M. de la Tournoire, of the French Guards." 
 
 " Very well. Look where you please. If he came 
 into my apartments, he must have done so while I 
 attended the petite levte of the King ; otherwise I 
 should have seen him. What are you looking at ?
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 113 
 
 The door of that closet ? He could not have gone 
 there without my knowledge. One of the maids 
 locked it the other day, and the key has disappeared." 
 Whereupon, she tried the door, herself, as if in proof 
 of her assertion. 
 
 "Then he cannot be there," said De 1'Archant, 
 deceived by her manner ; and he took his leave. 
 
 For some minutes I heard nothing but the mono 
 tonous voice of Marguerite as she read aloud to 
 herself from her "Book of Hours." 
 
 Then she opened my door again. Through the 
 tiny crack I saw a part of her head. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said to me, keeping her eyes 
 upon the book, and retaining the same changeless 
 tone of one reading aloud, "you see that you are 
 safe, for the present. No one in the palace, save 
 one of my maids, is aware that I know you or have 
 reason to take the slightest interest in you. Your 
 entrance to my apartments was made so naturally 
 and openly that it left no impression on those who 
 saw you come in. I have since sent every one of 
 those persons on some errand, so that all who might 
 happen to remember your coming here will suppose 
 that you left during their absence. It was well that 
 I brought you here ; had I merely told you to leave 
 the palace, immediately, you would not have known 
 exactly how matters stood, and you would have been 
 arrested at your lodgings, or on your way to your
 
 114 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 place of duty. By this time, orders have gone to the 
 city gates to prevent your leaving Paris. Before 
 noon, not only the body-guard, the Provost of the 
 palace, and the French and Scotch Guards will be 
 on the lookout for you, but also the gendarmes 
 of the Provost of Paris. That is why we must be 
 careful, and why stealth must be used in convey 
 ing you out of Paris." 
 
 "They make a very important personage of me," 
 I said, in a low tone. 
 
 " Hush ! When you speak imitate my tone, ex 
 actly, and be silent the instant I cough. Too many 
 people are not to be trusted. That you may under 
 stand me, you must know precisely how matters 
 stand. This morning my mother went to see the 
 King in his chamber before he had risen. They 
 discussed a matter which required my presence, and 
 I was sent for. After we had finished our family 
 council, my mother and I remained for a few words, 
 in private, with each other. While we were talking, 
 M. de Quelus came in and spoke for a while to 
 the King. I heard the King reply, ' Certainly, as 
 he preserved you to me, my friend.' De Quelus 
 was about to leave the King's chamber, when the 
 Duke of Guise was announced. De Quelus waited, 
 out of curiosity, I suppose. M. de Guise was ad 
 mitted. He immediately told the King that one 
 of his gentlemen, M. de Noyard, had been killed
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 11$ 
 
 by the Sieur de la Tournoire, one of the French 
 Guards. I became interested, for I remembered 
 your name as that of the gentleman who, accord 
 ing to my maid, had stopped the spy- from whom 
 I had had so much to fear. I recalled, also, that 
 you had the esteem of my brother's faithful Bussy 
 d'Amboise. My mother immediately expressed the 
 greatest horror at De Noyard's death, with the great 
 est sympathy for M. de Guise ; and she urged the 
 King to make an example of you." 
 
 I remembered, with a deep sigh, what De Rilly 
 had told me, that Catherine, to prevent the Duke 
 of Guise from laying the death of De Noyard to her, 
 would do her utmost to bring me to punishment. 
 
 "The King looked at De Quelus," continued Mar 
 guerite. " That gentleman, seeing how things were, 
 and, knowing that the King now wishes to seem 
 friendly to the Duke, promptly said, ' This is fortu 
 nate. La Tournoire is now waiting for me in the 
 red gallery ; I suppose he wishes to beg my inter 
 cession. His presumption will be properly punished 
 when the guards arrest him there.' ' 
 
 I turned sick, at this revelation of treachery. This 
 was the gentleman who owed his life to me, and, in 
 the first outburst of gratitude, had promised to ob 
 tain for me a captaincy ! 
 
 "The King," Marguerite went on, "at once or 
 dered two of the Scotch Guards to arrest you. All
 
 Il6 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 this time, I had been standing at the window, 
 looking out, as if paying no attention. My mother 
 stopped the guards to give them some additional 
 direction. No one was watching me. I passed 
 carelessly out, and you know what followed. At 
 the petite levte, I learned what was thought of 
 your disappearance, that you had seen the Duke 
 of Guise enter the King's apartments, had guessed 
 his purpose, and had precipitately fled." 
 
 I did not dare tell his sister what I thought of 
 a King who would, without hesitation or question, 
 offer up one of his guards as a sacrifice to appease 
 that King's greatest enemy. 
 
 "And now, monsieur," said Marguerite, still 
 seeming to read from her book, "the King and 
 the Queen, my mother, will make every effort to 
 have you captured, lest it be thought that they 
 are secretly protecting the slayer of M. de Noy- 
 ard. To convince you that you may rely on me, 
 thoroughly, I will confess that it is not solely 
 gratitude for your service the other night that in 
 duces me to help you, although my gratitude was 
 great. I had seen the spy rise out of the moat, and 
 all night I was in deadly fear that he had reached 
 the guard-house and prevented my brother's flight, 
 or, at least, betrayed me. When I became convinced 
 that he had not done so, I thanked Heaven for the 
 unknown cause that had hindered him. So you may
 
 HOW LA TOUR NO IRE ESCAPED. II 7 
 
 imagine, when my maid told me that a friend of her 
 lover's was that unknown cause, how I felt towards 
 that friend." 
 
 " Madame," I said, with emotion, " I ought to be 
 content to die, having had the happiness of eliciting 
 your gratitude ! " 
 
 " But I am not content that you should die, for I 
 wish you to serve me once more, this time as a mes 
 senger to my brother, the Duke of Anjou, who is at 
 Angers; to M. Bussy d'Amboise, who is with him; 
 and to my husband, the King of Navarre, who is 
 at Nerac, in Gascony. Thus it is to my own inter 
 est to procure your safe escape from Paris. And if 
 you reach Nerac, monsieur, you cannot do better 
 than to stay there. The King of Navarre will give 
 you some post more worthy of you than that of 
 a mere soldier, which you hold here." 
 
 I' I enlisted in the French Guards," I hastened to 
 explain, "because I was unknown, and a Huguenot, 
 and could expect no higher beginning." 
 
 " For the very reason that you are a Huguenot, 
 you can expect a great deal from the King of Navarre. 
 His kingdom is little more than a toy kingdom, it 
 is true, and his court is but .the distant echo of 
 the court of France, but believe me, monsieur, " 
 and here Marguerite's voice indicated a profound 
 conviction, " there is a future before my husband, 
 the King of Navarre ! They do not know him.
 
 1 1 8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Moreover, Paris will never be a safe place for you 
 as long as the Duke of Guise lives. He does not 
 forget ! " 
 
 I knew that Marguerite had excellent means of 
 knowing the Duke of Guise, and I did not dispute 
 her assertion. Moreover, I was now quite willing to 
 go from the city wherein I was to have achieved 
 such great things. My self-conceit had been shaken 
 a little. 
 
 " But if every exit is watched, how can I leave 
 Paris ? " I asked. 
 
 " The exits were watched to prevent the going of 
 my brother Anjou," said Marguerite, "but he went. 
 He crossed the Seine with his chamberlain, Simier, 
 and his valet, Cange, and went to the Abbey of St. 
 Genevieve, of which the gardens are bounded by the 
 city wall. The Abbot Foulon was secretly with us. 
 M. Bussy had returned to Paris, and was waiting\at 
 the Abbey for Monsieur. They left Paris by way 
 of the Abbey garden. The Abbot is a cautious soul, 
 and to protect himself, in case of discovery, he had 
 M. Bussy tie him to a chair, and after Monsieur and 
 Bussy had joined their gentlemen, outside, and gal 
 loped off toward Angers, the Abbot came to the 
 Louvre, and informed the King of Monsieur's, escape. 
 Now I suppose we shall have to make use of the 
 same ingenious Foulon." 
 
 " You know what is best, madame," I said.
 
 HOW LA TOUR NOIRE ESCAPED. 119 
 
 " But the Abbot of Saint Genevieve would not do 
 for you, or even for me, what he would do for my 
 brother Anjou. If he knew who you were, he might 
 gladly seize an opportunity to offset, by giving you 
 up, the suspicion that he had a hand in my brother's 
 escape." 
 
 " But if there is a suspicion of that, will they not 
 watch the Abbey now, on my account ? " 
 
 " No ; for you are not of my brother's party, and 
 the Abbot would have no reason for aiding you. 
 The question is how to make him serve us in this. 
 I must now think and act, monsieur, and I shall 
 have to lock you up again." 
 
 She rose and did so, and again I was left to medi 
 tate. It is astonishing how unconcerned I had come 
 to feel, how reliant on the ingenuity of this charming 
 princess with the small head, the high, broad fore 
 head, the burning, black eyes the curly blonde hair, 
 the quizzically discrete expression of face. 
 
 After some hours, during which I learned, again, 
 the value of patience, the door was opened, and 
 Marguerite thrust in some bread and cold meat, 
 which she had brought with her own hand. I took 
 it in silence, and stooped to kiss the hand, but it was 
 too soon withdrawn, and the door locked again. 
 
 When the door next opened, Marguerite stood 
 before it with a candle in her hand. I therefore 
 knew that it was night. In her other hand, she he.ld
 
 I2O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 four letters, three of them already sealed, the fourth 
 open. 
 
 " I have made all arrangements," she said, quickly. 
 "This letter is to the Abbot Foulon. Read it." 
 
 She handed it to me, and held the candle for me 
 while I read : 
 
 This gentleman bears private letters to Monsieur. As he 
 was about to depart with them, I learned that the King had 
 been informed of his intended mission, and had given orders 
 for his arrest at the gate. I call upon you to aid him to leave 
 Paris, as you aided my brother Anjou. His arrest would result 
 in a disclosure of how that matter was conducted. 
 
 MARGUERITE. 
 
 I smiled, when I had finished reading the letter. 
 
 " That letter will frighten Brother Foulon into 
 immediate action," said Marguerite, " and he will 
 be compelled to destroy it, as it incriminates him. 
 Take these others. You will first go to Angers, and 
 deliver this to the Duke of Anjou, this to M. de 
 Bussy. Then proceed to Gascony with this, for the 
 King of Navarre." 
 
 " And I am to start ? " 
 
 "To-night. I shall let you down into the moat, 
 as Monsieur was let down. You cannot cross the 
 bridges of the Seine, lest you be stopped by guards 
 at the entrances ; therefore I have employed, in 
 this matter, the same boy who served me the other 
 night. Go immediately from the moat to that part
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 121 
 
 of the quay which lies east of the Hotel de Bourbon. 
 You will find him waiting there in a boat. He^ill 
 take you across the river to the Quay of the Augus- 
 tines, and from there you will go alone to the Abbey. 
 When Foulon knows that you come in my name, he 
 will at once admit you. I am sorry that there is not 
 time to have a horse waiting for you outside the 
 fortifications." 
 
 " Alas, I must leave my own horse in Paris ! I 
 must go forth as a deserter from the Guards ! " 
 
 " It is better than going to the executioner," said 
 Marguerite, gaily. " For the last time, monsieur, be 
 come a bird in a cage. I am about to retire. As 
 soon as all' my people are dismissed, and the palace 
 is asleep, I shall come for you." 
 
 The door closed again upon my prison of a day. 
 I placed the letters within my doublet, and looked to 
 the fastening of my clothes, as a man who prepares 
 for a race or contest. I straightened myself up in 
 my place of concealment, and stood ready to attempt 
 my flight from this Paris of which the King had made 
 a cage to hold me. 
 
 More waiting, and then came Marguerite, this time 
 without a candle. She stood in the darkness, in a 
 white robe de nuit, like a ghost. 
 
 " Now, monsieur," she whispered. 
 
 I stepped forth without a word, and followed her 
 through the cabinet into a chamber which also was
 
 122 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 dark. Three of Marguerite's maids stood there, in 
 silence, one near the door, the other two at the win 
 dow. One of the latter held a stout stick, to the 
 middle of which was fastened a rope, which dangled 
 down to the floor and lay there in irregular coils. I 
 saw this by the little light that came through the 
 window from the clouded night sky. 
 
 Marguerite took the stick and held it across the 
 window. It was longer than the width of the win 
 dow, and hence its ends overlapped the chamber 
 walls on either side. 
 
 " Are you ready, monsieur ? " asked Marguerite, 
 in a whisper. 
 
 " Ready, madame." 
 
 Still holding the stick in position with one hand, 
 she opened the 'window with the other, and looked 
 out. She then drew in her head, and passed the 
 loose end of the rope out of the window. Then she 
 looked at me, and stood a little at one side, that I 
 might have room to pass. 
 
 Summoning a bold heart, I mounted the window- 
 ledge, got on my knees with my face towards the 
 chamber, caught the rope in both hands, lowered my 
 head, and kissed one of the hands of the Queen of 
 Navarre ; then, resting my weight on my elbows, 
 dropped my legs out of the window. Two more 
 movements took my body after them, and presently 
 I saw before me only the wall of the Louvre, and
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 123 
 
 was descending the rope, hand after hand, the weight 
 of my body keeping the stick above in position. 
 
 When I was half-way down, I looked up. The 
 wall of the palace seemed now to lean over upon 
 me, and now to draw back from me. Marguerite 
 was gazing down at me. 
 
 At last, looking down, I saw the earth near, and 
 dropped. I cast another glance upward. Marguerite 
 was just drawing in her head, and immediately the 
 rope's end flew out of my reach. 
 
 " There's no going back the way I came ! " I said, 
 to myself, and strode along the moat to find a place 
 where I could most easily climb out of it. Such a 
 place I found, and I was soon in the street, alone, 
 near where I had been wont to watch under the win 
 dow of Mile. d'Arency. I took a last look at the 
 window of Marguerite's chamber. It was closed, and 
 the rope had disappeared. My safety was no longer 
 in the hands of the Queen of Navarre. She had 
 pointed out the way for me, and had brought me 
 thus far ; henceforth, I had to rely on myself. 
 
 I shivered in the cold. I had left my large cloak 
 beside the dead body of M. de Noyard the previous 
 night, and had worn to the Louvre, in the morning, 
 only a light mantle by way of outer covering. 
 
 " Blessings on the night for being so dark, and 
 maledictions on it for being so cold ! " I muttered, as 
 I turned towards the river.
 
 1 24 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 I had reached the Hotel de Bourbon, when I 
 heard, behind me, the sound of footsteps in accord. 
 I looked back. It was a body of several armed 
 men, two of them bearing torches. 
 
 Were they gendarmes of the watch, or were they 
 guards of the King ? What were they doing on 
 my track, and had they seen me ? 
 
 Probably they had not seen me, for they did not 
 increase their gait, although they came steadily to 
 wards me. The torches, which illuminated everything 
 near them, served to blind them to what was at a 
 distance from them. 
 
 Fortunately, I had reached the end of the street, 
 and so I turned eastward and proceeded along the 
 quay, high walls on one side of me, the river on the 
 other. It had been impossible for Marguerite to 
 indicate to me the exact place at which the boat 
 was to be in waiting. I did not think it best, there 
 fore, to go to the edge of the quay and look for the 
 boat while the soldiers were in the vicinity. They 
 might come upon the quay at the moment of my 
 embarking, and in that event, they would certainly 
 investigate. So I walked on along the quay. 
 
 Presently I knew, by the sound of their steps, that 
 they, too, had reached the quay, and that they had 
 turned in the direction that I had taken. I was 
 still out of the range of their torchlight. 
 
 " How far will I be made to walk by these med-
 
 "I TOOK OFF MY SWORD AND DAGGER."
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 12$ 
 
 dlesome archers ? " I asked myself, annoyed at this 
 interruption, and considering it an incident of ill 
 omen. I looked ahead, to see whither my walking 
 would lead me. 
 
 I saw another body of gendarmes, likewise lighted 
 by torches, just emerging from a street's end, some 
 distance in front of me. They turned and came 
 towards me. 
 
 I stopped, feeling for an instant as if all my blood, 
 all power of motion, had left me. " Great God ! " I 
 thought, " I am caught between two rows of teeth." 
 
 I must wait no longer to seek the boat. Would 
 God grant that it might be near, that I might reach 
 it before either troop should see me ? 
 
 I ran to the edge of the quay and looked over into 
 the river. Of all the boats that lay at rest there, not 
 one in sight was unmoored, not one contained a boat 
 man ! 
 
 The two bodies of men were approaching each 
 other. In a few seconds the two areas of torchlight 
 would merge together. On one side were walls, 
 frowning and impenetrable ; on the other was the 
 river. 
 
 I took off my sword and dagger, on account of 
 their weight, and dropped them with their sheathes 
 into the river. I started to undo the fastening of 
 my mantle, but the knot held ; my fingers became 
 clumsy, and time pressed. So I gave up that at-
 
 126 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 tempt, threw away my hat, let myself over the edge 
 of the quay, and slid quietly into the icy water. 
 I immediately dived, and presently came to the sur 
 face at some distance from the shore. I then swam 
 for the middle of the river. God knows what powers 
 within me awoke to my necessity. I endured the 
 cold, and found strength to swim in spite of the 
 clothes that impeded my movements and added im 
 mensely to my weight. 
 
 Without looking back, I could tell, presently, from 
 the talking on the quay that the two detachments 
 of gendarmes had met and were standing still. Had 
 either one descried me, there would have been loud 
 or hurried words, but there were none. After a 
 while, during which I continued to swim, the voices 
 ceased, and I looked back. Two torches remained on 
 the quay. The others were moving away, along 
 the river. I then made a guess, which afterward 
 was confirmed as truth. The boy sent by Marguerite 
 had been discovered in his boat, had been taken to 
 the guard-house, and had given such answers as led 
 to the suspicion that he was waiting to aid the flight 
 of some one. The captain of the Guard, thinking so 
 to catch the person for whom the boatman waited, 
 had sent two bodies of men out, one to occupy the 
 spot near which the boy had been found, the other 
 to patrol the river bank in search of questionable 
 persons. I had arrived on the quay in the interval
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 127 
 
 between the boy's capture and the arrival of the 
 guards. 
 
 My first intention was to reach the left bank and 
 proceed to the Abbey of St. Genevieve. But it 
 occurred to me that, although a boat could not pass 
 down the river, out of Paris, at night, because of the 
 chain stretched across the river from the Tour du 
 Coin to the Tour de Nesle, yet a swimmer might 
 pass under or over that chain and then make, through 
 the faubourg outside the walls, for the open country. 
 Neither Marguerite nor I had thought of this way 
 of leaving Paris, because of the seeming impossibility 
 of a man's surviving a swim through the icy Seine, 
 and a flight in wet clothes through the February 
 night. Moreover, there was the necessity of leaving 
 my sword behind, and the danger of being seen by 
 the men on guard at the towers on either side of the 
 river. But now that necessity had driven me into 
 the river, I chose this shorter route to freedom, and 
 swam with the current of the Seine. In front of 
 me lay a dark mass upon the water in the middle 
 of the river. This was the barge moored there to 
 
 support the chain which stretched, from either side, 
 
 f 
 
 across the surface of the water, up the bank and to 
 the Tour de Nesle on the left side, and to the Tour 
 du Coin on the right. I might pass either to the 
 right or to the left of this barge. Naturally, I chose 
 to avoid the side nearest the bank from which I had
 
 128 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 just fled, and to take the left side, which lay in the 
 shadow of the frowning Tour de Nesle. 
 
 By swimming close to the left bank of the river, 
 I might pass the boundary without diving under the 
 chain, for the chain ascended obliquely from the 
 water to the tower, leaving a small part of the river's 
 surface entirely free. But this part was at the very 
 foot of the tower, and if I tried passage there I should 
 probably attract the attention of the guard. I was 
 just looking ahead, to choose a spot midway between 
 the barge and the left bank, when suddenly the black 
 ness went from the face of things, a pale yellow light 
 took its place, and I knew that the moon had come 
 from behind the clouds. A moment later, I heard 
 a cry from the right bank of the river, and knew 
 that I was discovered. The shout came from the 
 soldiers whom I had so narrowly eluded. 
 
 I knew that it was a race for life now. The 
 soldiers would know that any man swimming the 
 Seine on a February night was a man whom they 
 ought to stop. I did not look back, the one thing 
 .to do was to pass the Tour de Nesle before the 
 guards there should be put on the alert by the cries 
 from the right bank. So on I swam, urging every 
 muscle to its utmost. 
 
 Presently came the crack of an arquebus, and 
 spattering sounds behind me told me where the 
 shot had struck the water. I turned to swim upon
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 129 
 
 my left side, and so I got a glimpse of the quay that 
 I had left. By the hurried movement of torches, I 
 saw that the body that had gone to patrol the river 
 bank was returning to rejoin the other force. Of 
 the latter, several men were unmooring and manning 
 a large boat. I turned on my back to have a look 
 at the sky. I saw that very soon a heavy mass of 
 black cloud would obscure the moon. At once I 
 turned, and made towards the left bank, as if not 
 intending to pass the chain. I could hear the men 
 in the boat speaking rapidly at this, as if commenting 
 on my change of course. Again looking back, I saw 
 that the boat had pushed off, and was making towards 
 that point on the left bank for which I seemed to be 
 aiming. And now I had something else to claim my 
 attention : the sound of voices came from the Tour 
 de Nesle. I cast a glance thither. A troop of the 
 watch was out at last, having taken the alarm from 
 the movements on the right bank. This troop from 
 the Tour de Nesle was moving towards the place for 
 which I seemed to be making ; hence it was giving 
 its attention solely to that part of the left bank 
 which was inside the fortifications. I felt a thrill 
 of exultation. The moon passed under the clouds. 
 I changed my course, and struck out for the chain. 
 The light of the torches did not reach me. Both the 
 boat from the right bank and the watch from the 
 Tour de Nesle continued to move towards the same
 
 130 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 point. I approached the chain, took a long breath, 
 dived, felt the stifling embrace of the waters for 
 a season, rose to the surface, breathed the air of 
 heaven again, and cast a look behind. The chain 
 stretched between me and the distant boat and 
 torches. I was out of Paris. 
 
 I swam on, past the mouth of the Paris moat, and 
 then made for the left bank. Exhaustion seized me 
 as I laid hold of the earth, but I had strength to 
 clamber up. I fell into a sitting posture and rested 
 my tired arms and legs. What pains of cold and 
 heat I felt I cannot describe. Presently, with return 
 ing breath, came the strength to walk, a strength 
 of which I would have to avail myself, not only that 
 I might put distance between myself and Paris, but 
 also to keep my wet clothes from freezing. I rose 
 and started. 
 
 Choosing not to. follow the left bank of the Seine, 
 which was unknown territory to me, I turned south 
 eastward, in the hope of finding the road by which 
 I had entered Paris. To reach this, I had but to 
 traverse the Faubourg St. Germaine, along the line 
 of the wall of Paris. I had already gone some dis 
 tance along the outer edge of the moat, with the 
 sleeping faubourg on my right, when I heard, behind 
 me, the sound of men treading a bridge. I looked 
 back. The bridge was that which crossed the moat 
 from the Tour de Nesle.
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. \*$\ 
 
 Had the guards at last discovered my way of 
 eluding pursuit, and was I now being sought outside 
 the walls ? It appeared so, for, after crossing the moat, 
 the troop divided into two bodies, one of which went 
 toward the left bank below the chain, where I had 
 landed, while the other came along the moat after me. 
 I began to run. The moon came out again. 
 
 " Look ! he is there ! " cried one of my pursuers. 
 I heard their footsteps on the frozen earth, they, 
 too, were running. But I had the advantage in one 
 respect : I had no weapons to impede me. The 
 coming out of the moon did not throw me into 
 despair ; it only increased my determination to make 
 good the escape I had carried so far. Though na 
 ture, herself, became the ally of the King of France 
 and the Duke of Guise against me, I would elude 
 them. I was filled with hate and resolution. 
 
 Suddenly, as I ran, it occurred to me that I was 
 a fool to keep so near the fortifications, for, at any 
 of the gates, guards might emerge, alarmed by the 
 shouts of my pursuers ; and even as I thought this, 
 I looked ahead and saw a number of halberdiers 
 coming from the Porte St. Germaine. My situation 
 was now as it had been on the quay, with this 
 disadvantage, that I was seen by my enemies, and 
 this advantage, that I had a way of retreat open on 
 my right ; and I turned and sped along a street of 
 the Faubourg St. Germaine, towards the country.
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 It matters not how many pursue you, if you' can 
 run faster and longer than the best of them all. 
 Gradually, as I went, panting and plunging, onward, 
 heedless of every obstacle, I increased the distance 
 between me and the cries behind. Soon I was out 
 of the faubourg, but I did not stop. I do not know 
 what ground I went over, save that I went south 
 ward, or what village I presently went through, save 
 that it was silent and asleep. I came upon a good 
 road, at last, and followed it, still running, though 
 a pain in my side warned me that soon I must halt. 
 All my hunters had abandoned the chase now but 
 one. Every time I half turned for a backward look, 
 I saw this one coming after me. He had dropped 
 his weapons, and so had enabled himself to keep up 
 the chase. Not being weakened by a previous swim in 
 the Seine, he was in better form than I, and I knew 
 that he would catch me in time. And what then ? 
 He was a large fellow, but since the struggle must 
 come, I would better let it come ere I should be 
 utterly exhausted. So I pretended to stagger and 
 lurch forward, and presently came to my knees and 
 then prone upon the ground. With a grunt of 
 triumph, the man rushed up to me, caught me by 
 the collar of my doublet, and raised me from the 
 ground. Hanging limp, and apparently senseless, I 
 put him quite off his guard. 
 
 " Stand up ! " he cried. " Stomach of the Pope !
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 133 
 
 Have I come so far only to take a dead man 
 back ? " 
 
 While he was trying to make me stand, I suddenly 
 gathered all my energy into my right arm and gave 
 him a quick blow in the pit of the stomach. With a 
 fearful howl, he let me go and fell upon his knees. 
 A blow in the face then made him drop as limp as I 
 had pretended to be ; and I resumed my flight, this 
 time at a more leisurely pace. 
 
 And now all my physical powers seemed to be 
 leaving me. Pains racked my head, and I seemed 
 at one time to freeze and burn all over, at another 
 time to freeze in one part and burn in another. I 
 ached in my muscles, my bones, my stomach. At 
 every step, I felt that it was vastly difficult to take 
 another, that it would be ineffably sweet to sink 
 down upon the earth and rest. Yet I knew that 
 one taste of that sweetness meant death, and I. was 
 determined not to lose a life that had been saved 
 from so great peril by so great effort. Despite all 
 the soldiers at their command, the King of France 
 and the Duke of Guise should not have their will 
 with me. At last, I know not how far from 
 Paris, I came to an inn. There were still a few 
 crowns in my pocket. Forgetting the danger from 
 which I had fled, not thinking that it might over- 
 t ; ! ;c me here, feeling only the need of immediate 
 shelter and rest, I pounded on the door until I got
 
 134 AN. ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 admittance. I have never had any but the vaguest 
 recollection of my installation at that inn, so near to 
 insensibility I was when I fell against its door. I 
 have a dim memory of having exchanged a few 
 words with a sleepy, stolid host ; of being glad 
 of the darkness of the night, for it prevented him 
 from noticing my wet, frozen, begrimed, bedraggled, 
 half-dead condition ; of my bargaining for the sole 
 occupancy of a room ; of his leading me up a wind 
 ing stairway to a chamber ; of my plunging from 
 the threshold to the bed as soon as the door was 
 opened. I slept for several hours. When I awoke, 
 it was about noon, and I was very hungry and 
 thirsty. My clothes had dried upon me, and I 
 essayed to put them into a fairly presentable con 
 dition. I found within my doublet the four letters, 
 which had been first soaked and then stiffened. 
 The now useless one addressed to the Abbot 
 Foulon, I destroyed ; then I went down to the 
 kitchen, and saw, with relief, that it was empty. 
 I ate and drank hurriedly but ravenously. Again 
 the fear of capture, the impulse to put Paris further 
 and further behind, awoke in me. I bought a peas 
 ant's cap from the landlord, telling him that the wind 
 had blown my hat into the river the previous night, 
 and set forth. It was my intention to walk to La 
 Tournoire, that my money might last. Afoot I could 
 the better turn from the road and conceal myself in
 
 HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED. 13$ 
 
 woods or fields, at any intimation of pursuit. At La 
 Tournoire, I would newly equip myself with clothes, 
 weapons, horse, and money ; and thence I would 
 ride to Angers, and finally away, southward, to 
 Nerac. 
 
 It was a fine, sunlit day when I stepped from the 
 inn to take the road going southward. I had not 
 gone four steps when I heard horses coming from 
 the north. I sought the shelter of a shed at the 
 side of the inn. There was a crack between two 
 boards of this shed, through which I could look. 
 The horses came into sight, ten of them. The 
 riders were brown-faced men, all armed with swords 
 and pistols, and most of them having arquebusses 
 slung over their backs. Their leader was a large, 
 broad, black-bearded man, with a very ugly red face, 
 deeply scarred on the forehead, and with fierce 
 black eyes. He and his men rode up to the 
 inn, beat on the door, and, when the host came, 
 ordered each a stirrup-cup. When the landlord 
 brought the wine, the leader asked him some ques 
 tions in a low tone. The landlord answered stupidly, 
 shaking his head, and the horsemen turned to resume 
 their journey. Just as they did so, there rode up, 
 from the south, a merry-looking young cavalier fol 
 lowed by two mounted servants. This newcomer 
 gaily hailed the ill-looking leader of the troop from 
 the north with the words :
 
 136 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "Ah, M. Barbemouche, whither bound, with your 
 back towards Paris ? " 
 
 "For Anjou, M. de Berquin," growled the leader. 
 
 "What!" said the other, with a grin. "Have 
 you left the Duke of Guise to take service with the 
 Duke of Anjou ? " 
 
 " No, M. le Vicomte," said the leader. " It is 
 neither for nor against the Duke of Anjou that we 
 go into his province. It is to catch a rascal who 
 may be now on the way to hide on his estate there, 
 and whom my master, the Duke of Guise, would 
 like to see back in Paris." 
 
 " Indeed ? Who is it that has given the Duke of 
 Guise so great a desire for his company ? " 
 
 "The Sieur de la Tournoire," replied Barbemouche. 
 " Have you met him on the road ? " 
 
 "I have never heard of him, before," said the 
 young cavalier, indifferently ; and he rode on north 
 ward, while Barbemouche and his men silently took 
 the opposite direction. 
 
 He had never heard of me, as he said, nor I of 
 him ; yet he was to know much of me at a time 
 to come, was the Vicomte de Berquin ; and so was 
 Barbemouche, the scowling man who was now riding 
 towards Anjou in search of me.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 
 
 WHEN one is pursued, one's best course is to pur 
 sue the pursuer. So, when M. Barbemouche and his 
 troop of Guisards had gone some distance down the 
 road, I came forth from the shed and followed them, 
 afoot, keeping well to the roadside, ready to vanish, 
 should any of them turn back. It was evident that 
 Barbemouche had little or no hope of catching me 
 on the road. His plan was to surprise me at my 
 chateau, or to lie there in wait for me. He had not 
 shown any persistence in questioning the landlord. 
 The latter, through laziness or sheer stupidity, or 
 a fear of incurring blame for having sheltered a 
 fugitive, had not given him any information that 
 might lead him to suspect that the man he was seek 
 ing was so near. So I could follow, in comparative 
 safety, into Anjou. 
 
 Their horses constantly increased the distance 
 between the Guise man-hunters and me, their desired 
 prey. In a few hours they were out of sight. Thus 
 they would arrive at La Tournoire long before I
 
 138 AN ENEAIY TO THE KING. 
 
 could. Not finding me there, they would probably 
 put the servants under restraint, and wait in ambush 
 for me. Several days of such waiting, I said to 
 myself, would exhaust their patience ; thereupon, 
 they would give up the hope of my seeking refuge at 
 La Tournoire, and would return to their master. 
 My best course, therefore, would be to take my time 
 on the road, to be on the alert on coming near La 
 Tournoire, and to lie in hiding until I should be 
 assured of their departure. In order to consume as 
 much time as I could, and to wear out the enemy's 
 patience without putting my own to the test, I de 
 cided to go first to Angers, deliver Marguerite's 
 letters to Monsieur and Bussy d'Amboise, and then 
 make for La Tournoire. Therefore, when, after a 
 few days of walking, I came to LeMans, I did not 
 turn southward, towards La Tournoire, but followed 
 the Sarthe southwestward to Angers. 
 
 On this journey, I skirted Rambouillet, Anneau, 
 and the other towns in my way, and avoided large 
 inns, for fear of coming up with the Guise party. 
 I made my money serve, too, by purchasing cheaply 
 the hospitality of farmers and woodmen. My youth 
 had withstood well the experiences attending my 
 escape from Paris, and enabled me to fare on the 
 coarse food of the peasantry. There was plenty of 
 healthy blood in my veins to keep me warm. Out 
 side of my doublet, my shoulders had no covering
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 139 
 
 but the light mantle, of which I was now glad that I 
 had been unable to rid myself in my swim down the 
 Seine. People who saw me, with my rumpled 
 clothes and shapeless ruff and peasant's cap, prob 
 ably took me for a younger son who had endured 
 hard fortune. 
 
 Such was my condition when I reached Angers 
 and presented myself at the gate of the chateau 
 wherein the Duke of Anjou had taken residence. 
 There were many soldiers in and about the town, 
 and horsemen were arriving and departing. I might 
 not easily have obtained audience of the Duke, had 
 not Bussy d'Amboise ridden up at the head of a 
 small troop of horse, while I was waiting at the gate. 
 I called out his name, and he recognized me, showing 
 surprise at my appearance. I gave him his letter, 
 and he had me conducted to the Duke, who was 
 striding up and down the hall of the chateau. His 
 mind was evidently preoccupied, perhaps already 
 with fears as to the outcome of his rebellious step, 
 and he did not look at me when he took the letter. 
 His face brightened, though, when he saw the 
 inscription in Marguerite's handwriting, and he went, 
 immediately, to a window to read the letter. Bussy 
 d'Amboise, who had dismounted and come in with 
 me, now beckoned me to follow him, and when we 
 were outside, he offered to supply me with a horse, 
 money and arms, proposing that I enter the service
 
 140 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 of the Duke of Anjou. But I told him that I was 
 bound for Gascony, and when he still offered me 
 some equipment, I protested that I would refurnish 
 myself at my own chateau ; so he let me go my 
 way. I could see that he was in haste to break the 
 seal of Marguerite's letter. 
 
 I had gone two leagues or more northward from 
 Angers, and was about to turn eastward toward La 
 Tournoire, when I saw a long and brilliant cortege 
 approaching from the direction of Paris. Several 
 men-at-arms were at the head, then came a magnifi 
 cent litter, then a number of mounted ladies and 
 gentlemen, followed by a host of lackeys, a number 
 of mules with baggage, and another body of soldiers. 
 This procession was winding down the opposite 
 hillside. The head of it was already crossing the 
 bridge over a stream that coursed through the valley 
 toward the Sarthe. Slowly it came along the yellow 
 road, the soldiers and gentlemen holding themselves 
 erect on their reined-in horses, the ladies chatting or 
 laughing, and looking about the country, the wind 
 stirring the plumes and trappings, the sunlight 
 sparkling on the armor and halberds of the guards, 
 the sword-hilts of the gentlemen, the jewels and rich 
 stuffs which shone in the attire of the riders. There 
 were velvet cloaks and gowns ; satin and silk doub 
 lets, breeches, and hose ; there were cloth of gold 
 and cloth of silver. Here and there the cavalcade
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 141 
 
 passed clumps of trees that lined the road, and it 
 was then like pictures you have seen in tapestry. 
 
 Concealment had lately become an instinctive act 
 with me, and I now sought refuge in the midst of 
 some evergreen bushes, at a little distance from the 
 road, from which I could view the cavalcade as it 
 passed. On it came, the riders throwing back their 
 shoulders as they rilled their lungs with the bracing 
 country air. The day was a mild one for the time 
 of year, and the curtains of the litter were open. 
 Inside sat a number of ladies. With a start, I recog 
 nized two of the faces. One was Mile. d'Arency 's ; 
 the other was the Queen-mother's. Mile. d'Arency 
 was narrating something, with a derisive smile, to 
 Catherine, who listened with the slightest expres 
 sion of amusement on her serene face. 
 
 Catherine was going to try to persuade her son, 
 the Duke of Anjou, to give up his insurrectionary 
 designs and return to the court of his brother. I 
 guessed this much, as I lay hidden in the bushes, 
 and I heartily wished her failure. As for Mile. 
 d'Arency, I have no words for the bitterness of my 
 thoughts regarding her. I grated my teeth together 
 as I recalled how even circumstance itself had aided 
 her. She could have had no assurance that in the 
 combat planned by her I should kill De Noyard, or 
 that he would not kill me, and yet what she had desired 
 had occurred. When the troop had passed, I arose and
 
 142 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 started for La Tournoire. It seemed to me that a 
 sufficient number of days had now passed to tire the 
 patience of Barbemouche, and that I might now visit 
 my chateau for the short time necessary. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was with great caution that I 
 approached the neighborhood in which all my life, 
 until my departure for Paris, had been passed. At 
 each bend of the road, I stopped and listened before 
 going on. When I entered a piece of woods, I 
 searched, with my eyes, each side of the road ahead, 
 for a possible ambush. When I approached the top 
 of a hill, it was with my ears on the alert for the 
 sound of horsemen or of human feet, and, when I 
 reached the crest, I found some spot where, lying on 
 my stomach or crouching behind underbrush, I could 
 survey the lowland ahead. And so, meeting no 
 indication of peril, treading familiar and beloved 
 ground, I at last reached the hill-top from which I 
 would have my long-expected view of La Tournoire. 
 It was just sunset ; with beating heart, I hastened 
 forward, risking something in my eagerness to look 
 again upon the home of my fathers. I gazed down, 
 ready to feast my eyes on the dear old tower, the 
 peaceful garden, the 
 
 And I saw only a smouldering pile of ruins, not 
 one stone of my chateau left upon another, save a 
 part of the stables, before which, heeding the desola 
 tion no more than crows are repelled by the sight of
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 143 
 
 a dead body, sat M. Barbemouche and two of his 
 men throwing dice. Only one tree was left in the 
 garden, and from one of its limbs hung the body of 
 a man, through which a sword was thrust. By the 
 white hair of the head, I knew the body was that of 
 old Michel. 
 
 So this was the beginning of the revenge of the 
 Duke of Guise upon a poor gentleman for having 
 eluded him ; thus he demonstrated that a follower 
 of his might not be slain with impunity. And the 
 Duke must have had the assurance of the King that 
 this deed would be upheld ; nay, probably the King, 
 in his design of currying favor with his powerful 
 subject, had previously sanctioned this act, or even 
 suggested it, that the Duke might have no ground 
 for suspecting him of protecting me. 
 
 Grief at the sight of the home of my youth, the 
 house of my ancestors, laid low, gave way to rage at 
 the powerful ones to whom that sight was due, the 
 Duke who despoiled me, the King who had not pro 
 tected me, the Queen as whose unknowing tool I had 
 made myself liable to this outrage. As I stood on 
 that hill-top, in the dusk, and looked down on the 
 ruins of my chateau, I declared myself, until death, the 
 enemy to that Queen, that Duke, and that King, 
 most of all to that King; for, having saved the life 
 of his favorite, having taken humble service in his 
 Guards, and having received from him a hinted
 
 144 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 promise of advancement, I had the right to expect 
 from him a protection such as he gave every day to 
 worthless brawlers. 
 
 At nightfall, I went to the hovel of a woodman, 
 on whose fidelity I knew I could depend. At my 
 call, he opened the door of his little hut, and re 
 ceived me with surprise and joy. With him was a 
 peasant named Frolichard. 
 
 " Then you are alive, monsieur ? " cried the wood 
 man, closing the door after me, and making for me a 
 seat on his rude bed. 
 
 " As you see," I replied. " I have come to pass 
 the night in your hut. To-morrow I shall be off for 
 the south." 
 
 " Alas, you have seen what they have done ! I 
 knew nothing of it until Michel was dead, and the 
 servants came fleeing through the woods. They 
 have gone, I know not where, and the tenants, too. 
 All but Frolichard. As yet, the soldiers have not 
 found this hut." 
 
 By questioning him, I learned that M. Barbe- 
 mouche had denounced me as a heretic and a traitor 
 (I could see how my desertion from the French 
 Guards might be taken as implying intended re 
 bellion and treason), and had told Michel that my 
 possessions were confiscated. What authority he 
 pretended to have, I could not learn. It was prob 
 ably in wrath at not finding me that he had caused
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 14$ 
 
 the destruction of ray chateau, to make sure that it 
 might not in any circumstances shelter me again. 
 
 I well knew that, whatever my rights might be, 
 my safety lay far from La Tournoire ; and so did 
 my means of retaliation. 
 
 " If I had but a horse and a sword left ! " I said. 
 
 " There is a horse which I have been using, in my 
 shed," replied the forester; "and I made one of 
 the servants leave here the swords that he was carry 
 ing away in his flight. Moreover, he had filled a bag 
 with crowns from Michel's strong box. So you need 
 not leave entirely unprovided." 
 
 I thanked the faithful fellow as he brought forth 
 the swords and the little bag of gold pieces from 
 under his bed, and then I lay down to sleep. The 
 peasant Frolichard was already dozing in a corner by 
 the fire. 
 
 I was awakened suddenly by a shake of the shoul 
 der. The woodman stood by the bed, with every 
 sign of alarm on his face. 
 
 " Monsieur," he whispered, " I fear you would best 
 eat and begone. That cursed rascal, Frolichard, left 
 while I was asleep. I am sure that the devil has 
 been too much for him. He has probably gone to 
 tell the soldiers that you are here. Eat, monsieur ! " 
 
 I sprang up, and saw that the forester had already 
 prepared some porridge for me. 
 
 " It is nearly dawn," he added, as I looked around.
 
 146 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 I swallowed a few mouthfuls of the porridge, and 
 chose the better one of the swords. Then I took 
 up the little bag of golden crowns, and went out to 
 mount horse. The animal that the woodman held 
 for me was a sorry one, the ugliest and oldest of 
 my stable. 
 
 Yet I rode blithely through the woods, happy to 
 have again a horse under me, and a sword at my side. 
 I knew that the forester could take care of himself 
 as long as there should remain woods to hunt in or 
 streams to fish in. 
 
 When I reached the road it was daylight. I made 
 for the hill-top, and stopped for a last look at my 
 fields. I did not have to hesitate as to my course. 
 In my doublet- was Marguerite's letter, to be borne 
 to the King of Navarre. Yet there was another 
 reason why I should not attach myself to the Duke 
 of Anjou, although he was already in rebellion against 
 the King : the look on his face, when I saw him at 
 Angers, had convinced me that he would not hold 
 out. Should Catherine not win him back to allegi 
 ance, his own weakness would. I would place my 
 hopes in the future of Henri of Navarre. Nothing 
 could, as yet, be predicted with assurance concerning 
 this Prince, who, being the head of the house of 
 Bourbon, which constituted the younger branch of 
 the Royalty of France, was the highest, by blood, 
 of the really Huguenot leaders. Some, however,
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 
 
 whispered that there was more in him than ap 
 peared in his amours and his adventures of the 
 chase. 
 
 I was just about to turn my horse's head towards 
 the south, when a man came out of my half-ruined 
 stable and looked up at me. Instantly he called to 
 some one in the stable, and two or three other sol 
 diers came out. I recognized the burly form of one 
 of these as that of Barbemouche. Another figure, 
 a limp and cringing one, was that of Frolichard the 
 peasant. Barbemouche gave some orders, and two 
 or three brought horses out of the stable. I knew 
 what all this meant. 
 
 I turned my horse, and galloped off towards the 
 south. In a few moments I heard the footfalls 
 of galloping horses behind me. Again I was the 
 object of a chase. 
 
 When I had gone some distance, I looked back 
 and saw my hunters coming, ten of them, down the 
 hillside behind me. But the morning was bracing, 
 and my horse had more life in him than at first sight 
 appeared. I put another hill behind me, but in time 
 my followers appeared at its crest. Now they gained 
 on me, now I seemed to leave them further behind. 
 All day this race continued. I bore directly south 
 ward, and hence passed far east of Angers. I soon 
 made up my mind that M. Barbemouche was a man 
 of persistence. I did not stop anywhere for food or
 
 148 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 drink. Neither did M. Barbemouche. I crossed the 
 Loire at Saumur. So did he. 
 
 " Very well," I said. " If my horse only holds out, 
 I will lead you all the way to Gascony." 
 
 Once I let my horse eat and rest ; twice I let him 
 drink. 
 
 At nightfall, the sound of the hoofs behind me 
 gradually died away. My own beast was foaming 
 and panting, so I reined in to a walk. Near Loudun, 
 I passed an inn whose look of comfort, I thought, 
 would surely tempt my tired pursuers to tarry, if, 
 indeed, they should come so far. Some hours later, 
 coming to another and smaller inn, and hearing no 
 sound of pursuit behind me, I decided to stop for 
 a few hours, or until the tramp of horses' feet should 
 disturb the silence of the night. . 
 
 The inn kitchen, as I entered, was noisy with 
 shouts and curses. One might have expected to 
 find a whole company of soldiers there, but to my 
 surprise, I saw only one man. This was a robust 
 young fellow, with a big round face, piercing gray 
 eyes, fiercely up-sprouting red mustache, and a 
 double - pointed reddish beard. There was some 
 thing irresistibly pugnacious, and yet good-natured, 
 in the florid face of this person. He sat on a bench 
 beside a table, forcibly detaining an inn maid with 
 his left arm, and holding a mug of wine in his right 
 hand. Beside him, on the bench, lay a sword, and in
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 149 
 
 his belt was a pistol. He wore a brown cloth doub 
 let, brown breeches, and green hose. 
 
 " A thousand devils ! " he roared, as I entered. 
 " Must a fighting man stand and beg for a kiss from 
 a tavern wench ? I don't believe in any of your 
 painted saints, wooden or ivory, but I swear by all 
 of them, good-looking girls are made to be hugged, 
 and I was made to hug them ! Here, you ten times 
 damned dog of a landlord, bring me another bottle 
 of your filthy wine, or I'll make a hole in your barrel 
 of a body ! Be quick, or I'll roast you on your own 
 spit, and burn down your stinking old inn ! " At 
 this moment he saw me, as I stood in the doorway. 
 " Come, monsieur ! " he cried, " I'm not fastidious, 
 curse me, and you might drink with me if you were 
 the poxy old Pope himself ! Here, wench, go and 
 welcome the gentleman with a kiss ! " And he 
 shoved the girl towards me and began to pound, 
 in sheer drunken turbulence, on the table with 
 his mug. 
 
 I left the kitchen to this noisy guest, and took 
 a room up - stairs, where the landlord presently 
 brought me light and supper. 
 
 I paid in advance for my night's lodging, and 
 arranged to have access, at any time during the 
 night, to the shed in which was my horse, so that 
 at the least alarm I might make hasty flight. I 
 opened my window, that the sound of horses on the
 
 I5O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 road might be audible to me from a distance. Then, 
 having eaten, I put out my light and lay down, in 
 my clothes, ready on occasion to rise and drop from 
 the window, take horse, and be off. 
 
 From the kitchen, below, came frequent sounds 
 emitted or caused by the tipsy young Hercules in 
 the brown doublet. Now he bellowed for wine, now 
 he thundered forth profanity, now he filled the place 
 with the noise of Gargantuan laughter ; now he 
 sang at the top or the depth of his big, full voice ; 
 then could be heard the crash of furniture in col 
 lision. These sounds continued until far into the 
 night. 
 
 I had intended not to sleep, but to lie with ears 
 alert. I could not yet bring myself to feel that I 
 was safe from pursuit. So used had I become to a 
 condition of flight, that I could not throw off the 
 feeling of being still pursued. And yet, I had hoped 
 that Barbemouche would tire of the chase. My plan 
 had not been to confuse him as to my track, by 
 taking by-roads or skirting the towns, but merely to 
 outrun him. Because I wished to reach Nerac at 
 the earliest possible moment, and because the coun 
 try was new to me and I desired not to lose my way, 
 I had held to the main road southward, being guided 
 in direction by the sun or the stars. Moreover, had 
 I made detours, or skirted cities, Barbemouche might 
 have gone ahead by the main road and lain in wait
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. \*>\ 
 
 further south for my coming up, for Frolichard, the 
 peasant, had heard me tell the woodman my destin 
 ation. So, in that first day's flight, I had trusted to 
 the speed of my horse, and now there was some 
 reason to believe that Barbemouche had abandoned 
 pursuit, as the soldiers had done who chased me 
 from Paris. And yet, it seemed to me that this ugly 
 Barbemouche was not one to give up his chosen prey 
 so soon. 
 
 Despite my intention, I feel asleep, and when I 
 awoke it was daylight. I sprang up and went cau 
 tiously down-stairs, sword in hand. But there was 
 no danger. Only the host and a servant were stir 
 ring in the inn. I made a rapid breakfast, and went 
 to see my horse fed. Before the shed, I saw the 
 young man who had made such drunken tumult in 
 the kitchen the previous night. He was just about 
 to mount his horse ; but there was now nothing of 
 the roysterer about his look or manner. He had re 
 stored neatness to his attire, and his expression was 
 sedate and humble, though strength and sturdiness 
 were as apparent in him as ever. 
 
 "A fine morning," I said, as the inn-servant 
 brought out my own horse. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," said the young man, in a very 
 respectful tone. " A sunrise like this is a gift from 
 the good God." 
 
 " Yet you look pensive."
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "It is because I know how little I deserve such 
 mercy as to live on such a day," answered the man, 
 gravely ; and he bowed politely, and rode southward. 
 
 This devoutness and humility impressed me as 
 being strangely out of harmony with the profanity 
 and turbulence of the night before, yet the one 
 seemed no less genuine than the other. 
 
 My horse fed, I mounted and rode after the 
 sturdy youth. 
 
 Not far from Mirebeau, happening to turn my 
 head towards the north, I saw, in the distance, a 
 group of horsemen approaching at a steady gallop. 
 From having looked back at this group many times 
 during the preceding day, I had stamped certain of 
 its figures on my memory, and I now recognized it 
 as Barbemouche and his party. 
 
 "Another day of it," I said, to myself, and spurred 
 my horse to a gallop. 
 
 An increase in their own pace told me that they 
 in turn had recognized me. 
 
 "This grows monotonous," I mused. "If there 
 were only fewer of them, or more of me, I would 
 make a stand." 
 
 Presently I -came up with the young man in the 
 brown doublet. He stared at me with a look of in 
 quiry as I passed at such speed ; then he looked 
 back and saw the distant horsemen coming on at 
 equal speed. He appeared to realize the situation
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 153 
 
 at a glance. Without a word, he gave his own 
 horse a touch of the spur, with the manifest inten- 
 'tion of keeping my company in my flight. 
 
 "You have a good horse," I said to him, at the 
 same time watching him* out of the corner of my 
 eye, seeking some indication that might show 
 whether, on occasion, he would stand as my friend 
 or my enemy. 
 
 " Better than yours, I fear, monsieur," he replied. 
 
 " Mine has been hard run," I said, lightly. 
 
 Presently he looked back, and said : 
 
 " Ah, the devil ! Your friends, back there, are 
 sending out an advance guard. Three of them are 
 making a race of it, to see which shall have the 
 honor of first joining you." 
 
 I looked back. It was true ; three of them were 
 bearing down with great speed, evidently on fresh 
 horses. Barbemouche remained back with the rest. 
 
 I urged on my horse. 
 
 "It is useless, monsieur," said the young man at 
 my side. " Your beast is no match for theirs. 
 Besides, you will not find a better place to make 
 a stand than the bridge yonder." And he pointed 
 ahead to a bridge that crossed a narrow stream that 
 lay between high banks. 
 
 "What, face ten men ? " I said. 
 
 " There are only three. The thing may be over 
 before the others come up."
 
 I 54 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 I laughed. "Well, admitting that, three against 
 one " I began. 
 
 " Oh, there will be two of us," replied the other. 
 
 My heart gave a joyous bound, but I said, " I 
 cannot expect you to risk y<fur life in my quarrel." 
 
 And he answered, " By God ! I myself have a 
 quarrel with every man that wears on his hat the 
 white cross of the Guises ! " His grey eyes flashed, 
 his face became red with wrath. " Let us stop, 
 monsieur." 
 
 We stopped and turned our horses on the narrow 
 bridge. We both drew sword and waited. My 
 new-found ally threw back his hat, and I saw across 
 his forehead a deep red scar, which I had not before 
 noticed. 
 
 The three men rode up to the attack. They all 
 stopped suddenly before they reached the bridge. 
 
 " Give up your sword and come with us, mon 
 sieur," cried one of them to me. 
 
 I said nothing. " Go to hell ! " roared my com 
 panion. And with that he charged with the fury of 
 a wild beast, riding between two of the horsemen, 
 and thrusting his sword through the eye and into 
 the brain of one before either could make the least 
 show of defence. His horse coming to a quick stop, 
 he drew his weapon out of the slain man's head and 
 turned on the other. While there was some violent 
 fencing between the two, and while the dead man's
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 
 
 horse reared, and so rid itself of its bleeding burden, 
 the third horseman urged his horse towards me. I 
 turned the point of his rapier, whereupon he immedi 
 ately backed, and then came for me again just as I 
 charged on him. Each was too quick to meet the 
 other's steel with steel. His sword passed under 
 my right arm and my sword under his right arm, 
 and we found ourselves linked together, arm to arm. 
 I saw him reach with his left hand for his dagger, 
 and I grew sick at the thought that I had no similar 
 weapon with which to make matters even. He 
 plucked the dagger from his belt, and raised it to 
 plunge it into my back ; but his wrist was caught 
 in a clutch of iron. My man in the brown doublet, 
 in backing his horse to make another charge on his 
 still remaining opponent, had seen my antagonist's 
 motion, and now, with a twist of his vigorous fingers, 
 caused the dagger to fall from a limp arm. Then 
 my comrade returned to meet his own enemy, and I 
 was again on equal terms with mine. We broke 
 away from each other. I was the quicker to right 
 myself, and a moment later he fell sidewise from his 
 horse, pierced through the right lung. 
 
 I backed my horse to the middle of the bridge, 
 and was joined by my stalwart friend, who had done 
 for his second man with a dagger thrust in the side. 
 
 "Whew!" he panted, holding his dripping weap 
 ons on either side of him, so as not to get any more
 
 1 56 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 blood on his clothes. Then a grin of satisfaction 
 appeared on his perspiring face, and he said : 
 
 "Three Guisards less to shout 'Vive la messe.' 
 It's a pity we haven't time to exchange horses with 
 these dead whelps of hell. But the others are com 
 ing up, and we ought to rest a while." 
 
 We sheathed our weapons and spurred on our 
 horses, again southward. Looking back, soon, we 
 saw that the other pursuers, on coming up to their 
 dead comrades, had chosen first to look after the 
 belongings of the latter rather than to avenge their 
 deaths. And while Barbemouche and his men, of 
 whom there were now six, tarried over the dead 
 bodies, we made such good speed that at last we 
 were out of sight of them. 
 
 My first use of my returned breath was to thank 
 my stalwart ally. 
 
 He received my gratitude with great modesty, said 
 that the Lord had guided his arm in the fight, and 
 expressed himself with a humility that was in com 
 plete contrast to the lion-like fury shown by him in the 
 combat. Judging him, from his phrases, to be a Hu 
 guenot, I asked whether he was one, by birth, as I was. 
 
 "By birth, from my mother," he replied. "My 
 father was a Catholic, and in order to win my mother, 
 he pretended to have joined the reformers. That 
 deceit was the least of his many rascally deeds. He 
 was one of the chosen instruments of the devil, a
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 157 
 
 violent, roystering cut-throat, but a good soldier, as 
 was shown in Italy and at St. Quentin, Calais, Jar- 
 nac, and elsewhere. My mother, though only the 
 daughter of an armorer's workman, was, in goodness, 
 an angel. I thank God that she sometimes has the 
 upper hand in me, although too often it is my father 
 that prevails in me." He sighed heavily, and looked 
 remorseful. 
 
 In subsequent talk, as we rode, I learned that he 
 was a soldier who had learned war, when a boy, under 
 Coligny. He had fought at his father's side against 
 Italians, Spanish, and English, and against his father 
 in civil war. His father had died of a knife-wound, 
 received, not in battle, but from a comrade in a 
 quarrel about a woman, during the sacking of a 
 town. His mother, when the news of the fate of 
 her unworthy spouse reached the village where she 
 lived, died of grief. The son was now returning 
 from that village, which was near Orleans, and 
 whither he had been on a visit to his relations, to 
 Gascony, where he had been employed as a soldier 
 in the small army with which Henri of Navarre made 
 shift to garrison his towns. 
 
 I told him that I hoped to find a place in that 
 little army. 
 
 " You do well, monsieur," said the young soldier, 
 whose intelligence and native dignity made him, 
 despite his peasant origin, one with whom a gentle-
 
 158 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 man might converse. " Some day they will learn in 
 France of what stuff the little Bearnaise King is 
 made. I have stood watching him when he little 
 supposed that a common soldier might take note of 
 such things, and I have seen on his face the sign 
 of great intentions. More goes on under that black 
 hair than people guess at, he can do more than 
 drink and hunt and make love and jest and swear." 
 
 He was in no haste to reach Gascony, he said, 
 and so he intended to visit a former comrade who 
 dwelt in a village some leagues from my road. In 
 the afternoon, coming to the by-road which led to 
 this place, he left me, with the words : 
 
 " My name is Blaise Tripault, and should it hap 
 pen that you ever enroll a company for the King of 
 Navarre 
 
 "The first name on my list shall be Blaise Tri 
 pault," I replied, smiling, and rode on, alone. 
 
 Whenever I heard riders behind me, I looked 
 back. At evening I reached an eminence which 
 gave a good view of the country through which I 
 had passed. Two groups of horsemen were visible. 
 One of these consisted of seven men. The chief 
 figure was a burly one which I could not mistake, 
 that of Barbemouche. 
 
 "Peste!" I muttered, frowning. "So they are 
 following me into Poitou ! Am I never to have 
 any rest ? "
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 159 
 
 I took similar precautions that night to those 
 which I had taken the night before. The next day, 
 about noon, emerging out of a valley, I saw my pur 
 suers on the top of the hill at my rear. Plainly, they 
 intended to follow me to the end of the earth. I 
 hoped they would stop in Poitiers and get drunk, but 
 they tarried there no more than I. And so it was, 
 later, at Civray and at Angouleme. 
 
 Every day I got one or two glimpses of this per 
 sistent pack of hounds. Every night I used like 
 measures to make sudden flight possible. One 
 night the sound for which I kept my ears expectant 
 reached them, the sound of horses' hoofs on the 
 hard road. I dropped from the open window of the 
 inn at which I was, led out my horse from the shed, 
 and made off, southward. The noise made by their 
 own horses prevented my pursuers from hearing that 
 made by mine. Presently the clatter abruptly 
 ceased, whereupon I knew that they had stopped 
 at the inn which I had left. My relief at this was 
 offset by chagrin at a discovery made by me at the 
 same moment : I had left my bag of golden crowns 
 in the inn chamber. I dared not now go back for 
 them. Well, Nerac could not be far away, now. I 
 had traversed a good part of Guienne. The Dor- 
 dogne was behind me. 
 
 I was glad that I had taken better care of the 
 letter from Marguerite to her husband than I had
 
 f6o AN ENEMY TO THE KING 
 
 taken of my crowns. Fortunately it had not left my 
 doublet. I felt that my future depended on the 
 delivery of that letter. There could be no doubt 
 that Marguerite had recommended me in it with 
 a favor that would obtain for me both protection and 
 employment from the King of Navarre. 
 
 Daylight came, and with it hunger. I stopped at 
 an inn, and was about to dismount, when I remem 
 bered that I had no money. 
 
 I could do without food for a time, but my 
 horse could not. I told the landlord, a short, 
 heavy, square-faced, small-eyed man, that I would, 
 later, send him payment for a breakfast. He looked 
 at me with a contempt that even a peasant dare show 
 to a gentleman, when the gentleman has no money. 
 
 "Very well, then," I said. "I will leave you 
 security." 
 
 He looked more respectful at this, and made a 
 quick examination of me with his eyes. 
 
 " Unless you have some jewelry about you," he 
 said, "your sword is the only thing that I would 
 accept." 
 
 "You clod," I exclaimed, in a rage. "I ought to 
 give you my sword through the body." 
 
 " A gentleman ought not to demand, for nothing, 
 that which a poor man makes his living by selling," 
 answered the host, turning to go in. . 
 
 I looked down at my horse, which had already
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. l6l 
 
 shown an endurance beyond its stock, and which 
 now turned its eyes, hungrily, towards the inn stable. 
 At the same time I thought I heard the sound of 
 hoofs, away northward. After all, the delivery of 
 the letter depended more on the horse than on my 
 sword, for one horse is more likely to beat seven 
 horses than one sword to beat seven swords. 
 
 To try whether it were possible, I made one move 
 ment, as if to hand over the weapon. But my arm 
 refused. As well try to pluck the heart out of my 
 body, and give it to 'the dog's keeping. Rather kill 
 the man on his own threshold and, like a brigand, 
 help myself. But I chose to be merciful. 
 
 " Be quick, then," I said. " Bring me some wine, 
 and feed my horse as it stands here. I could 
 take, for nothing, what you ask such high security 
 for." 
 
 "And I have three strong sons," said the inn 
 keeper, impudently. But he brought the wine, and 
 ordered one of his sons to bring oats for the horse. 
 So we made our breakfast there, horse and man, 
 standing before the inn door. When the animal had 
 licked up the last grain, I suddenly hurled the heavy 
 wine-mug at the innkeeper's head, wheeled my horse 
 about, and galloped off, shouting back to the half- 
 stunned rascal, "Your three sons must be swift, as 
 well as strong, to take my sword." And I rode on, 
 southward.
 
 1 62 AN ENEMX TO THE KING. 
 
 "Will the Guisards follow me over this river, 
 also ? " I asked myself, as I crossed the Garonne. 
 
 In the afternoon, I stopped for another look back 
 ward. There was not a soul to be seen on the road. 
 
 " Adieu, M. Barbemouche ! " I said. " I believe 
 you have grown tired of me at last." 
 
 At that instant a group appeared at the distant 
 turn of the road. I counted them. Seven ! And 
 they were coming on at the speed of the wind. 
 
 I patted my horse on his quivering neck. " Come, 
 old comrade," I said. " Now for one last, long race. 
 In your legs lies my future." 
 
 He obeyed the spur, and his increased pace re 
 vealed a slight lameness, which had not before been 
 perceptible. 
 
 " We have only to reach some Gascon town," I 
 said to him. " The soldiers of the King of Navarre 
 will protect the bearer of a letter to him from their 
 Queen." 
 
 I turned in my saddle, and looked back. They 
 were gaining ground. 
 
 " They know that this is their last chance," I said. 
 " We are near the country held by the King of 
 Navarre, and so they make a last effort before 
 giving up the chase. On, my staunch fellow ! 
 You shall have fine trappings, and shall fare as 
 well as your master, for this ! " 
 
 The animal maintained its pace as if it understood ;
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 163 
 
 but it panted heavily and foamed, its eyes took on a 
 wild look, and its lameness increased. 
 
 "They are coming nearer, there is no doubt of 
 it ! " I told myself. " Have I escaped from the 
 Louvre and from Paris, led my enemies a chase 
 through five provinces, to be taken when refuge is 
 at last in sight ? Shall Marguerite's letter to Henri 
 of Navarre fall into the hands of those Who wish him 
 no good?" 
 
 Tears gushed from my eyes as I thought of the 
 cruelty of destiny, which had sustained me so far in 
 order to betray me at the end. I took the letter 
 from my doublet, and held it ready to tear into pieces 
 should I indeed be caught. Although Marguerite 
 was thought to have secrets with the Duke of Guise, 
 it was likely that she would not wish him to know 
 what she might write to her husband, whose political 
 ally she always was. 
 
 And now my horse dropped its head lower at each 
 bound forward. The seven horses behind showed no 
 sign of tiring. 
 
 " Thank God, I kept my sword ! I can kill one of 
 them, at least ! " 
 
 I no longer looked back. Blindly forward I went, 
 impelled only to defer the end to the last possible 
 moment. God knew what might yet intervene. 
 
 Suddenly my horse gave a snort of pain, stumbled 
 blindly, and fell to his knees. He slid forward a short
 
 1 64 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 distance, carried on by his impetus, and then turned 
 over on his side, and lay quivering. I had taken my 
 feet from the stirrups at his stumble, so that I now 
 stood over his body. 
 
 I heard the loud clank of the hoofs behind. I 
 stepped over the horse, and drew my sword. A 
 short distance ahead was a clump of scrubby pines ; 
 there I would turn and make my stand. 
 
 Then was the time when I might have torn up the 
 letter, had I not suddenly forgotten my intention. 
 I held it clutched in my hand, mechanically, as I 
 ran. I was conscious of only one thing, that 
 death was bearing down on me. The sound of 
 the horses' footfalls filled my ears. Louder and 
 louder came that sound, drowning even the quick 
 panting of my breath. Again came that aching in 
 the side, that intolerable pain which I had felt in my 
 flight from Paris. 
 
 I pressed my hand to my side, and plunged forward. 
 Suddenly the road seemed to rise and strike me in 
 the face. I had fallen prostrate, and now lay half- 
 stunned on the earth. I had just time to turn over 
 on my back, that I might face my pursuers, when the 
 foremost horse came up. 
 
 "Well, my man," cried the rider, in a quick, 
 nervous voice, as I looked stupidly up at his short, 
 sturdy figure, hooked nose, keen eyes, black hair and 
 beard, and shrewd, good-natured face, " did you think
 
 HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD. 165 
 
 the devil was after you, that you ran so hard ? Ventre 
 Saint Gris ! You would make an excellent courier." 
 
 " I am a courier," I answered, trying to rise. " I 
 ran so fast that I might soon reach Nerac with this 
 letter for your majesty." 
 
 And I held the letter out to King Henri of 
 Navarre.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED MONSIEUR DE LA CHATRE. 
 
 I HAD never seen Henri of Navarre, before, but 
 had often heard him described, and no other man 
 exactly fitted his description. His favorite oath 
 confirmed my recognition. 
 
 He took the letter, saying, " It looks as if it had 
 been through fire and flood." 
 
 " I had to swim the Seine with it," I said. 
 
 He read it, sitting on his horse in the middle of 
 the road, I standing beside the horse, the other six 
 riders eyeing me curiously. 
 
 Having finished it, he looked at me with some 
 interest and approval. "And what made you run 
 from us ? " he asked. 
 
 " Sire, there were seven horsemen left in the 
 party that has been chasing me for some days past. 
 Counting seven in your group, I too quickly assumed 
 that it was the same." 
 
 The King of Navarre laughed, and ordered one of 
 the lackeys to give me his horse and proceed afoot 
 to the nearest town. When I was mounted, he 
 asked me to ride beside him. 
 
 166
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 1 67 
 
 " The speed at which you rode excited our curi 
 osity," he explained, "and that is why we gave 
 chase." 
 
 I learned, later, that Henri and three of his gentle 
 men, with three valets, had been inspecting the 
 defences of one of his Gascon towns, and were now 
 returning to Nerac. He sometimes traversed those 
 parts of his French provinces where his authority 
 as governor was recognized, without any state, and 
 often without a guard. 
 
 In reply to his questions, I said that I preferred 
 a military position to a civil one, but confessed my 
 inexperience. He told me that I might serve as 
 ensign in one of his regiments, at Nerac, until I 
 should acquire some knowledge of military affairs, 
 when he would give me a captain's commission, and 
 I might enlist a company. 
 
 I told him of the destruction of my chateau, and 
 the loss of my money. He thereupon required me 
 to accept the horse on which I rode, and a purse 
 which one of the valets handed over to me. As he 
 then beckoned one of his gentlemen to his side, I 
 fell back. We entered Nerac in the evening. As 
 soon as the gate was passed, the King and his 
 followers turned towards the chateau, and I took 
 the main street to an inn. 
 
 The King of Navarre kept his promises. I had 
 been ensign for only a few months, stationed at
 
 1 68 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Nerac, when he sent for me, and informed me that 
 he intended to augment his army, and that he would 
 maintain a company of my raising. He caused a 
 captain's commission to be given to me before I left 
 the chateau. I walked thence, down the avenue 
 of fine trees, which were now in full leaf, before the 
 chateau, debating with myself the possibility of 
 easily raising a company. When I reached the 
 square before the inn, I heard from within a human 
 roar which had a familiar sound. Entering, I found 
 that it proceeded from the stentorian lungs of Blaise 
 Tripault, the young soldier who had aided my flight 
 to Gascony by killing two Guisards in my defence. 
 He was sitting at a table, very drunk. 
 
 "Ah, Blaise Tripault," I cried, "I see that your 
 father prevails in you now ! " 
 
 He recognized me, threw his bottle of wine out of 
 the open window, and made an attempt at sobriety. 
 
 " You have been long on the way to Nerac," I 
 went on, " but you come just in time to keep your 
 promise. I enroll you first in the company which 
 the King has commissioned me to raise." 
 
 " I thank you, monsieur," he replied. " I will 
 now go to bed, and will come to you as soon as I 
 am sober." 
 
 He was of great use to me in enlisting the com 
 pany. He scoured the country daily, and brought 
 me recruits. When the roll was complete, I was
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 169 
 
 ordered to remain at Nerac for a time. Subse 
 quently, I was sent to garrison different towns, one 
 after another, not only in Gascony and parts of 
 Guienne but also in Henri's principality of Be"arn 
 and his little kingdom of Navarre. 
 
 I am proud to have had a share in the constant 
 efforts made by Henri of Navarre, while the world 
 thought him given over entirely to gallantry at his 
 small but agreeable court, to increase his territory 
 and his resources against the time when he was 
 to strike the great blows that no one yet dreamed 
 he was meditating. Thanks to the unwillingness, 
 or inability, of the King of France to put him in 
 actual possession of his governorship of Guienne, 
 we had the pleasant task, now and then, of wresting 
 some town from the troops of the League or of 
 Henri III. Our Henri had to take by force the 
 places ceded to him by the King of France as 
 Marguerite's dower, but still withheld from him. 
 One of these was Cahors, in the taking of which 
 I fought for days in the streets, always near our 
 Henri, where the heart of the fighting was. It was 
 there that Blaise Tripault covered himself with glory 
 and the blood of the enemy, and was openly praised 
 by the King. 
 
 But my life in the south had other pleasures 
 besides those of fighting. As Henri's was a minia 
 ture kingdom, so was his court, at cheerful Nerac or
 
 I7O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 sombre Pau, a miniature court ; yet it had its pretty 
 women and gallant gentlemen. Gaiety visited us, 
 too, from the greater world. When the King of 
 France and the Queen-mother thought it to their in 
 terest to seem friendly to our Henri, they ordered 
 Marguerite to Nerac. Catherine herself came with 
 her, bringing the Flying Squadron, that Henri and his 
 Huguenots might be seduced into the onesided treat 
 ies desired by her. Catherine was one of the few, 
 I think, who foresaw Henri's possible future. Her 
 astrologer, Cosmo Ruggieri, had predicted that he 
 would succeed her three sons to the throne of 
 France, and I suppose she could not endure the 
 thought of this. Better a Guise than a Bourbon, the 
 son of Jeanne d'Albret. But our Henri might be 
 useful to her as an instrument to check the Duke of 
 Guise in any attempted usurpation during the life of 
 her son. Therefore, Henri was to be cajoled while he 
 was being restrained. But he was not fooled into 
 disadvantageous compacts or concessions. All that 
 he lost was a single town, which Catherine caused to 
 be attacked while he was at a fete ; but he learned 
 of this at the fete, and retaliated by taking a town of 
 the French King's on the same night. 
 
 I was presented to Catherine while she was at 
 Nerac. No allusion was made to the circumstances 
 which had caused my flight from Paris, or, indeed, to 
 my having ever been in Paris. Yet, from her scru-
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. I? I 
 
 tiny of my features, I knew that she recalled those 
 circumstances with my name. But Nerac was not 
 the place where it would serve her to concern herself 
 about me. I learned from one of Catherine's gentle 
 men that Mile. d'Arency, who had not come with her 
 to Nerac, had wedded the Marquis de Pirillaume, 
 who was jealous and kept her on his estate in 
 Dauphiny, away from the court. I wished him joy 
 of her. 
 
 When Catherine and her troop went back to the 
 French court, leaving Marguerite at Nerac, they 
 could boast of a few Huguenot gentlemen won over 
 to their designs, but I was not one of the few. I do 
 not say that I did not amuse myself where charm 
 ing women abounded, but I kept my heart to myself. 
 I had not resolved to become invulnerable to woman, 
 but I had determined that she by whom I would let 
 myself be wounded should be one vastly unlike any 
 in Catherine's train. When I should find the woman 
 pure as beautiful, incapable of guile, I would love. 
 " Somewhere in France," I often said to myself, 
 " that woman exists. I shall know her when I see 
 her." As in the former affair, I had my ideal 
 already formed, and was already in love, watching 
 for the embodiment of that ideal to appear. But 
 this second ideal wasdifferent from the first. And 
 it is time to tell how at last I met her, and how, for 
 a while, the reality seemed worse even than the first.
 
 172 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 The death of the Duke of Anjou, after his recon 
 ciliation with the King, his brother, and his failure to 
 win the crown he sought in the Netherlands, was a 
 great event for us in Gascony. It left our Henri of 
 Navarre next in succession to the throne of France. 
 And our Henri was a sturdy man, while Henri III. 
 seemed marked by destiny to follow the three other 
 sons of Catherine to an early grave. It appeared 
 that Marguerite monopolized all the longevity granted 
 to the family. But we knew that the Guises and 
 their League would not let our Huguenot Henri 
 peacefully ascend his throne. Therefore, Henri's 
 policy was to strengthen himself against the time 
 when the death of Henri III. should leave the throne 
 vacant for him. It was his interest also to prevent 
 a usurpation of that throne during, the life of Henri 
 III., for such a usurpation would eventually exclude 
 himself also. Thus circumstance made him the 
 natural ally of Henri III. It was, conversely, the 
 interest of the Guises to sow enmity between 
 the two kings. The power of the League in France, 
 and particularly in Paris, was now so great that 
 Henri III. dared not oppose the wishes of the Duke 
 of Guise. He was reduced to devices for gaining 
 time. And so, against his own interest, he sanc 
 tioned the war which the Leagufc presently demanded 
 against the Huguenots, a war which might do two 
 things for the Duke of Guise : destroy the next heir
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 1/3 
 
 to the throne, and deprive the present King of his 
 chief resource against a usurpation. For the present, 
 the Duke of Guise cloaked his design by having the 
 Pope proclaim the old Cardinal de Bourbon heir to 
 the throne, our Henri being declared ineligible on 
 account of heresy. , 
 
 In the summer of 1585, the King of France issued 
 anti-Huguenot edicts required by the League. Gov 
 ernors of provinces were ordered to make it un 
 comfortable for the "heretics." Several of them 
 promptly obeyed, arresting some Huguenots for 
 remaining in their provinces, and arresting others 
 for trying to escape therefrom. By this time, 
 Henri of Navarre had gathered a sufficient army 
 and acquired a sufficient number of towns to hold 
 his own in Guienne, and, indeed, throughout south 
 western France. The Prince de Cond6 also put a 
 Huguenot army in the field. Pending the actual 
 opening of war, which the edicts of Henri III. 
 foreshadowed, our Henri maintained a flying camp 
 in Guienne. Every day recruits came, some of 
 them with stories of persecution to which they 
 had been subjected, some with accounts of diffi 
 culty in escaping from their provinces. One day 
 I was summoned to the presence of Henri of 
 Navarre. 
 
 " M. de la Tournoire," said he, speaking with his 
 usual briskness and directness, " there awe, in most of
 
 1/4 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the provinces of France, many Huguenots who have 
 publicly recanted, to save their lives and estates. 
 Many of these are secretly for us. They would join 
 me, but they fear to do so lest their estates be con 
 fiscated. These are to be assured that what they 
 may lose now by aiding me shall some day be 
 restored to them. Here is a list of a number of 
 such gentlemen in the province of Berry, and you 
 are to give them the assurances necessary to enlist 
 them in our cause. Use what persuasions you can. 
 Take your company, and find some place of conceal 
 ment among the hills of the southern border of 
 Berry. You can thus provide escort in crossing 
 the border for those who may need it. Where you 
 can in any way aid a Huguenot to escape from the 
 province, where you can rescue one from death or 
 prison, do so, always on condition of promised ser 
 vice in our cause. As for the gentlemen whose 
 names are on this list, have them bring, as contribu 
 tions, what money and arms they can. We are in 
 even greater need of these than of men. Impress 
 upon these gentlemen that their only hope of ulti 
 mate security lies in our triumph. It is a task of 
 danger with which I charge you, monsieur, and I 
 know that you will, therefore, the more gladly 
 undertake it. The governor of Berry, M. de la 
 Chatre, is one of the bulwarks of the League. I 
 learn that he is enforcing the edicts of Henri III.
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 175 
 
 against the Protestants with the greatest zeal. He 
 is devoted to the Duke of Guise, and is one of our 
 most formidable enemies. It will not, therefore, be 
 well for you to fall into his hands. Go, monsieur, 
 and God be with you ! " 
 
 I bowed my thanks for the favor of this dangerous 
 mission, and went away with the list in my doublet, 
 proud of having been made the confidant of Henri's 
 resolution to fight for his rights to the end. I was 
 elated, too, at the opportunity to work against the 
 King of France and the Duke of Guise. 
 
 To annoy and hamper M. de la Chatre in his work 
 of carrying out the public edicts of the King and 
 the secret designs of the Duke, would give me 
 the keenest joy. For once, both my great enemies, 
 usually so opposed to each other in interest, could 
 be injured at the same time by the same deeds ; 
 and such deeds would help my beloved captain, by 
 whom I had been chosen to perform them. I could 
 hardly contain my happiness when I returned to my 
 company, and ordered immediate preparations for a 
 night's march northward. 
 
 We set out, myself and Tripault mounted, the 
 others afoot, with several horses bearing provisions 
 and supplies. Marching at night, and concealing 
 ourselves in the forests by day, we at last reached 
 the mountains that form part of the southern bound 
 ary of Berry. They were thickly wooded, and though
 
 1 76 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the month of August made them a series of masses 
 of deep green, they presented a sombre aspect. 
 
 "It is somewhere up there," I said, pointing 
 toward the still and frowning hills before us, " that 
 we are to find a burrow, from which to issue forth, 
 now and then, to the plains on the other side." 
 
 " The only man in the company who knows this 
 country," replied my devoted squire, Blaise Tripault, 
 "is Frojac, but he makes up for the ignorance of 
 the others by knowing it very well. He can lead us 
 to the most deserted spot among these mountains, 
 where there is an abandoned chateau, which is said 
 to be under a curse." 
 
 " If part of it is under a roof as well, so much the 
 better," I answered. "Bring Frojac to me." 
 
 Blaise rode back along the irregular line formed by 
 my rude soldiers, picked out an intelligent looking 
 young arquebusier, and led him forward to me. I 
 made this man, Frojac, our guide. 
 
 After toilsome marches, forcing our way up 
 wooded ascents devoid of human habitation, and 
 through almost impenetrable thickets of brush 
 wood, we crossed the highest ridge of the moun 
 tain chain, and from a bare spot, a natural clearing, 
 gazed down on the Creuse, which wound along the 
 line formed by the northern base of the mountains. 
 Beyond that lay the province of Berry, which was to 
 be the scene of our operations. Some leagues to
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 1 77 
 
 the northeast, crowning a rocky eminence that rose 
 from the left bank of the Creuse, stood a mass of 
 grim-looking towers and high gray walls. From the 
 southern side of this edifice, a small town ran down 
 the declivity to the plain. 
 
 " What is that place yonder ? " I asked. 
 
 "It is the town and chateau of Clochonne," said 
 Frojac. 
 
 " Who occupies the chateau ? " 
 
 "It belongs to M. de la Chatre, the governor of 
 the province, who sometimes comes there. A part 
 of it is occupied by a garrison." 
 
 We resumed our progress through the forest, now 
 descending the northern slope of the ridge. After 
 some hours, when night was already beginning to 
 fall in the woods, Frojac pointed ahead to a knoll 
 covered with huge trees between whose trunks the 
 space was choked with lesser vegetation. 
 
 " There it is," he said. " The Chateau de Maury." 
 
 We made our way through the thicket, and came 
 suddenly upon ruined walls, rising in the midst of 
 trees. Wild growths of various kinds filled up what 
 had been the courtyard, and invaded the very doors. 
 The broken walls and cracked towers themselves 
 seemed as much a part of nature as the trees and 
 bushes were. Branches thrust themselves through 
 apertures in the crumbling stone. Southward from 
 the foot of the knoll rose the mountains, eastward
 
 178 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 and westward extended an undulating natural plat 
 form that interrupted the descent of the mountain 
 side. Northward the ground fell in a steep preci 
 pice to the left bank of the Creuse, along which ran 
 a little-used road from Clochonne, which was north 
 east, to Narjec, which was southwest. 
 
 " Is there a path down the slope, by which we 
 could reach that road, should we wish to go north 
 by way of Clochonne ? " I asked. 
 
 "I do not think so," replied Frojac. "But there 
 used to be a road from here to Clochonne, through 
 the forest. It has not been used since the Sieur de 
 Maury left, twenty years ago, to hunt for gold in the 
 new world. They said that, before going, he made a 
 compact with the devil, here, by which Satan was to 
 lead him to a land of gold across the sea. The devil 
 is believed to be taking care of his estate until he 
 returns. Perhaps this road has not been entirely 
 wiped out by the forest." 
 
 A part of the chateau was yet under roof. This 
 portion included the hall and three or four chambers 
 above it. On the day after our arrival, we found the 
 road through the forest still sufficiently open to serve 
 us for expeditious egress. This abandoned way did 
 not itself go to Clochonne, but it ran into a road that 
 went from that town southward across the mountain. 
 At the point of junction was the abode of an old 
 woodman and his wife, where the couple maintained
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 
 
 a kind of inn for the entertainment of people crossing 
 the mountain. This man, Godeau, was rheumatic, 
 bent, thin, timid, shrill-voiced, and under the domi 
 nation of his large, robust, strong-lunged spouse, 
 Marianne. By means of a little flattery, a gold 
 piece, promises of patronage, and hints of dire ven 
 geance upon any who might betray me, I secured 
 this woman's complete devotion. These two were 
 the only human dwellers within two leagues of our 
 chosen hiding-place. 
 
 In Guienne, my master considered as enemies 
 those who did not acknowledge his authority, and 
 he provisioned his army at their expense. Inas 
 much as the province of . Berry was making war 
 on our party, I treated it as hostile country, subject 
 to pillage, according to the customs of war." It is 
 true, some of its people were friendly to our cause, 
 but it was as much their duty to contribute to our 
 maintenance, since we were fighting in their behalf, 
 as it was our right to take from those to whom our 
 relation was one of warfare. So I gave my men 
 permission to forage, putting but one condition upon 
 them, that of losing their lives rather than allow 
 our hiding-place to be disclosed. Thus, by virtue of 
 many nightly visits to farms in the vicinity of Clo- 
 chonne and Narjec, we contrived to avoid the pangs 
 of an empty stomach. 
 
 Having established my company on a living basis
 
 180 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 at Maury, I began with relish the work of annoying 
 M. de la Chatre. I sent out certain of my men, 
 severally, to different parts of southern Berry as 
 seekers of information. In the guise of peasants, 
 or of soldiers going to serve in the army which the 
 Governor, La Chatre, was then augmenting, they 
 learned much that was valuable to me. It is written, 
 under the title of " How the Lord Protected His 
 Own and Chastised His Enemies in Berry," in the 
 book called "The Manifold Mercies of God to His 
 Children," by the pastor Laudrec, who has reported 
 rightly what I related to him : how we made recruits 
 for Henri of Navarre by finding out Huguenots in 
 towns and villages and convincing them that they 
 were sure to be arrested should they remain in 
 Berry ; how we guided these out of the province 
 by various ways of our own discovery, across the 
 mountain ; how we interrupted the hanging of sev 
 eral men at Issoudun, who had been condemned for 
 heresy and treason, and sent them in safety to Gui- 
 enne ; how certain of my men, without my authority, 
 despoiled Catholic churches of their instruments of 
 idolatry, and thus helped to replenish the treasury 
 of our master ; how I once marched my company by 
 night to a wood near Bourges, lay in wait there until 
 a guard came, conducting captured Huguenots for 
 trial, attacked the guard, rescued the prisoners, and 
 protected them in a hurried flight to the border,
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. l8l 
 
 whence they proceeded to swell the army of our 
 Henri ; and how we served our cause in numerous 
 other exploits, which I need not relate here, as you 
 may read them in Laudrec's book, printed in Geneva. 
 
 The many secret departures of Huguenots from 
 southern Berry, despite the vigilance of the garri 
 sons at Clochonne and other frontier strongholds, 
 must naturally have attracted the attention of the 
 authorities, and so must the sudden public appear 
 ances that I made with my company on occasions like 
 that at Issoudun and that near Bourges. My men, 
 who moved, unknown, among the people, began to 
 hear reports of a mysterious captain who hid in the 
 southern hills and sallied forth at night to spirit 
 Huguenots away. To this mysterious captain and 
 his band were attributed not only all the exploits 
 that we did accomplish, but many that we did not ; 
 and some daring robberies, of which we were inno 
 cent, were laid to our charge. 
 
 Finally, in September, I had evidence that our 
 deeds had begun to make an impression on M. de la 
 Chatre, the illustrious governor of the province and 
 of the Orleannais as well. One of my men, Roque- 
 lin, saw in the market-place of Chateauroux an offer 
 of five hundred crowns for the capture of this un 
 known rebel captain, which document was signed by 
 La Chatre. I here saw an opportunity to make 
 myself known in high places as one capable of 'harm-
 
 1 82 AN ENEMY TO THE XING. 
 
 ing and defying his enemies, despite their greatness. 
 I was rejoiced at the hope of acquainting the Duke 
 of Guise and the King of France with the fact that 
 I had survived to work defiantly against their cause, 
 under the very nose of one of their most redoubtable 
 servants. I had not been of sufficient consequence 
 for the Duke to fear, or for the King to protect, but 
 now I was of sufficient consequence, as their enemy, 
 for a price to be put on my head. So I sent one of 
 my clever fellows, Sabray, to fasten by night beside 
 La Chatre's placard in Chateauroux, a proclamation 
 of my own, in which I offered ten crowns for the 
 head of M. de la Chatre, and twenty crowns for that 
 of his master, the Duke of Guise. I appended this 
 signature : " The Sieur de la Tournoire, who does not 
 forget." I knew that some of La Chatre's enemies 
 would take great pleasure in making this known to 
 the Duke of Guise, and that the latter would reproach 
 the King with my continued existence. It irritates the 
 great to be defied by the small, and to irritate these 
 two great ones was my delight. 
 
 I soon learned, with glee, that my return of com 
 pliments had reached the knowledge of the gover 
 nor. Maugert brought me word of a notice posted 
 in Clochonne, in which La Chatre doubled his offer 
 and termed me the "heretic, rebel, traitor, and rob 
 ber calling himself Sieur de la Tournoire." 
 
 While I gave myself the pleasure of annoying M.
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 183 
 
 de la Chatre, I did not neglect the more important 
 service imposed on me by Henri of Navarre. Ac 
 companied only by Blaise Tripault, and travelling 
 by night, I visited, one after another, the gentlemen 
 named on my master's list, and used what eloquence 
 I had, pointing out the expediency of assuring future 
 security by making present sacrifices for our cause. 
 Many of them required very little persuasion. On 
 hearing that Henri of Navarre had given his word 
 to defend his succession with his sword, they nobly 
 left their estates and went to join his army, carrying 
 with them what money and arms they could take. 
 Thanks to the guidance of my men, they eluded the 
 garrisons on the border. 
 
 It was in early October, when the forests were 
 turning yellow, brown, and red, and the fallen leaves 
 began to lie in the roads, that I started out with 
 Blaise Tripault to visit the gentleman named last 
 on the list. 
 
 " Monsieur," said Blaise, as we neared the end of 
 our hidden forest road and were approaching the 
 inn of Godeau, " I have in me a kind of feeling that 
 this, being our last excursion, is likely to be the 
 most dangerous. It would doubtless please Fortune 
 to play us an ugly trick after having served us so 
 well hitherto." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " I replied. 
 
 " I believe that is what the famous Bussy d' Am-
 
 1 84 AN ENEMY TO THE XING. 
 
 boise said when he was warned not to keep his 
 appointment with Mme. de Monsoreau," returned 
 Blaise ; " yet he was, none the less, killed by the 
 rascals that lay in ambush with her husband." 
 
 " Thanks to the most kingly King of France, 
 Henri III., who advised M. de Monsoreau to force 
 his wife to make the fatal appointment with Bussy. 
 Thanks, also, to the truly grateful Duke of Anjou, 
 who rewarded Bussy for his faithful service by con 
 curring in the plot for his assassination." 
 
 "The Duke was worse than the King, for the 
 King has been loyal to his chosen favorites. Think 
 of the monument he erected in honor of De Quelus, 
 and the others who got their deaths in that great 
 duel in the horse-market. Par dieu! I should like to 
 have seen those girl-men of the King and those 
 Guisards killing one another ! " 
 
 "I have observed, Blaise, that you take an ex 
 traordinary pleasure in the slaughter of Guisards." 
 
 "I was in Coligny's house, monsieur, on the night 
 of the St. Bartholomew. I was one of those who, 
 at the Admiral's command, fled to the roof, and 
 from the roof of the next house I saw Coligny's 
 body thrown into his courtyard, and the Duke of 
 Guise turn it over with his foot and wipe the blood 
 from the face to see if it were indeed my old cap 
 tain's. Since then, the sight of the white cross of 
 Guise stirs in me all the hell that my diabolical
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. 185 
 
 father transmitted to me. And I should not like to 
 see you fall into the hands of this Chatre, who is the 
 right arm of the Duke of Guise in Berry. That is 
 why I give heed to the premonition that troubles me 
 regarding this journey." 
 
 "Certainly we cannot abandon the journey." 
 
 " No, but we can take unusual precautions, mon 
 sieur. Reports of our doings are everywhere. Has 
 it never occurred to you that you are, in appearance, 
 exactly the sort of man who would be taken for our 
 leader? Ought you not to disguise yourself?" 
 
 " An excellent idea, Blaise ! I shall put on your 
 clothes, and you shall put on mine, I shall pass as 
 your lackey. It will be quite amusing;" 
 
 " That is not the disguise I should have suggested," 
 said Blaise, looking not too well pleased with the idea. 
 " It would require me to pass as a gentleman." 
 
 But I saw possibilities of fun in the thing, and 
 welcomed any means of enlivening our excursion. 
 Therefore, we dismounted at Godeau's inn, and made 
 the exchange of attire, much against the liking of 
 Blaise, who now repented of having advised any dis 
 guise at all. My clothes were a little too tight for 
 Blaise, for I was of medium size, and he puffed and 
 turned red in the face, and presented a curious 
 appearance of fierceness and discomfort. When I 
 looked at him, I could not help laughing, and he met 
 my glance with a grim and reproachful countenance.
 
 l86 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 I did not think that his brown doublet and breeches 
 and brown felt hat and feather were much disguise for 
 me. As we rode along, I diverted myself by trying 
 to assume a servile mien, which did not easily fit my 
 rather bold face, prominent nose, keen gray eyes, up- 
 curling brown mustache and pointed brown beard. 
 With his curly reddish hair and beard, defiant mus 
 tache, honest, big, blue eyes, swelling red cheeks, 
 and robust body, Blaise looked like one who must 
 have had his dignities thrust upon him very recently. 
 
 We reached, without accident, our destination, the 
 chateau of the Baron d'Equinay, and that gentleman 
 was speedily won by the assurances that I bore him 
 from Henri of Navarre. He desired, before starting 
 for Guienne, to go to Paris, where he had resources, 
 and he rode off northward at the same moment when 
 we departed southward to return to Maury. 
 
 "It is well!" I cried to Blaise, as we rode in the 
 bracing air of the October morning. "We have car 
 ried our King's message to every one of his chosen 
 adherents in Berry. We ride through the province 
 of M. de la Chatre, breathe his fresh air, absorb his 
 sunshine as freely as he does himself. You see how 
 reliable were your premonitions when we last set 
 out from Maury." 
 
 " It is not too late yet, monsieur," growled Blaise, 
 whose temper was ill while he wore my clothes ; 
 "we are not yet back at Maury."
 
 HOW HE ANNOYED DE LA CHATRE. l8/ 
 
 " You will talk less dismally over a bottle of good 
 wine, Blaise. Therefore, I intend to stop at the first 
 inn on the way. I hope it is a good one, for I am 
 very hungry." 
 
 "There is an inn at this end of Fleurier," said 
 Blaise, "but I would not stop if I were you." 
 
 But I was not to be moved from my intention. 
 When a man has finished a set task, it is time to eat 
 and drink. Therefore, we stopped at the little inn at 
 the northern edge of Fleurier. A gray, bent inn 
 keeper, very desirous of pleasing, welcomed us and 
 went to look after our horses, while Blaise, acting the 
 part of master, ordered a^black-eyed, pretty inn-maid 
 to serve us dinner in a private chamber. The room 
 assigned us was at the head of a stairway leading 
 from the kitchen. We had no sooner seated our 
 selves than our ears were assailed by the clatter of 
 many horses on the road outside. They stopped 
 before the inn, and we heard the voices of two men 
 who entered the kitchen, and of a great number who 
 remained without. When the inn-maid brought us a 
 bottle of wine, Blaise asked her whose cavalcade it 
 was that waited before the inn. 
 
 " It is that of the governor of the province, M. de 
 la Chatre," said she, "who is below with his secre 
 tary, M. de Montignac." 
 
 And she left the room in haste to help serve so 
 distinguished a guest.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 
 
 BLAISE looked at me solemnly, with a face that 
 seemed to say, " Did I not warn you ? " We had 
 seated ourselves at either side of a small, rough 
 table, I on the edge of the bed, Blaise on a three- 
 legged stool. For a moment I sat returning Blaise's 
 gaze across the table ; then noticing that the maid 
 had left the door of our chamber slightly ajar, I arose 
 and walked stealthily to the crack, through which 
 I could see a part of the kitchen below. Blaise 
 remained seated at the table, glumly watching me. 
 
 I saw the maid bearing wine to a table rear the 
 window, where sat the two guests whose names she 
 had mentioned. The landlord was carrying a tray 
 full of bottles and drinking-cups out to La Chatre's 
 men, who remained before the inn, some having 
 dismounted, some still on horse. I could hear their 
 talk, their oaths and cries to one another and to 
 their horses, the snorts and pawings of their steeds. 
 A shout of welcome greeted the coming of the land 
 lord with the wine. 
 
 188
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 189 
 
 With curiosity I fastened my gaze on the two at 
 the table. I knew instantly that the stout, erect, 
 authoritative gentleman with the carefully trimmed 
 gray beard, full cheeks, proud brow, fearless eyes, 
 and soldierly air, must be Claude de la Chatre, gov 
 ernor of the Orleannais and Bern ; and that the 
 slender, delicately formed, sinuous, graceful youth 
 with smooth-shaven face, fine sharply cut features, 
 intelligent forehead, reddish hair, intent gray eyes, 
 and mien of pretended humility, was the governor's 
 secretary, Montignac. La Chatre' s look was frank, 
 open, brave. Montignac had the face of a man 
 assuming a character, and awaiting his opportunity, 
 concealing his ambition and his pride, suppressing 
 the scorn that strove to disclose itself at the corners 
 of his womanish mouth. La Chatre wore a rich 
 black velvet doublet and breeches, and black leather 
 riding-boots. Montignac was dressed, in accordance 
 with his pretence of servility, in a doublet of olive- 
 colored cloth, breeches of the same material, and 
 buff boots. He sat entirely motionless, looking 
 across the table at his master with an almost imper 
 ceptibly mocking air of profound attention. 
 
 Monsieur de la Chatre appeared to be in a bad 
 humor. He gulped down his wine hastily, seeming 
 not to taste it. With a frown of irritation he drew 
 from his belt a letter, of which the seal was already 
 broken. Opening it with quick, angry motions,
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 he held it before him, and frowned the more 
 deeply. 
 
 "Peste!" he exclaimed, when the maid had left 
 the kitchen ; and then he went on in a rich, virile, 
 energetic voice : " To be met on the road by such 
 a letter ! When I saw the courier in the distance I 
 felt that he was bound for me, and that he brought 
 annoyance with him. The duke has never before 
 used such a tone to me. If he were on the ground, 
 and knew the trouble these dogs of heretics give me, 
 he would doubtless change his manner of speech." 
 
 " Monseigneur the Duke of Guise certainly wrote 
 in haste, and therefore his expressions have an 
 abruptness that he did not intend," replied Montig- 
 nac, in a low, discreet, deferential voice, whose very 
 tone was attuned to the policy of subtle flattery 
 which he employed towards his master. "And he 
 acknowledges, as well, your many successes as he 
 complains of your failure to catch this Sieur de la 
 Tournoire.'' 
 
 So the letter by which the governor was so irri 
 tated came from the Duke of Guise, and concerned 
 myself ! My work in Berri had not been in vain. 
 Instinctively I grasped the hilt of my sword, and at 
 the same time I smiled to myself to think how La 
 Chatre might have felt had he known that, while 
 himself and his secretary were the only persons in 
 the inn kitchen, the Sieur de la Tournoire saw and
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 19 1 
 
 heard them from the crack of the slightly open door 
 at the top of the stairway. To make myself safer 
 from discovery, I now took my eye from the crack, 
 keeping my ear sufficiently near to catch the words 
 of my enemies. I glanced at Blaise, who had heard 
 enough to acquaint him with the situation, and whose 
 open-eyed face had taken on an expression of alert 
 ness and amazement comical to behold. He, too, 
 had mechanically clutched the handle of his sword. 
 Neither of us moving or speaking, we both listened. 
 But the governor's next words were drowned by the 
 noise that came from outside, as the landlord opened 
 the front door to reenter the inn. La Chatre's men, 
 now supplied with wine, had taken up a song with 
 whose words and tune we were well acquainted. 
 
 " Hang every heretic high, 
 
 Where the crows and pigeons pass 1 
 Let the brood of Calvin die ; 
 
 Long live the mass ! 
 A plague on the Huguenots, ah ! 
 
 Let the cry of battle ring : 
 Huguenots, Huguenots, Huguenots, ah ! 
 
 Long live the king ! " 
 
 The singers uttered the word " Huguenots," and 
 the exclamation "ah," with an expression of loathing 
 and scorn which could have been equalled only by 
 the look of defiance and hate that suddenly alighted 
 on the face of Blaise. He gave a deep gulp, as if
 
 192 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 forcing back, for safety, some answering cry that 
 rose from his breast and sought exit. Then he 
 ground his teeth, and through closed lips emitted 
 from his throat a low growl, precisely like that of 
 a pugnacious dog held in restraint. 
 
 The landlord closed the door, and the song of La 
 Chatre's men sank into a rudely melodious murmur. 
 The host then went out by a rear door, and the gov 
 ernor resumed the conversation. 
 
 " Corbceuf ! He is a fox, this Tournoire, who 
 makes his excursions by night, and who cannot be 
 tracked to his burrow." 
 
 " We know, at least," put in the secretary, in his 
 mild way, " that his burrow is somewhere in the 
 wooded mountains at the southern border of the 
 province." 
 
 " Then he knows those mountains better than the 
 garrisons do," said La Chatre. " The troops from 
 the southern towns have hunted the hills in vain." 
 
 " When such a task as the capture of this rebel is 
 entrusted to many, it is not undertaken with zeal. 
 The chance of success, the burden of responsibility, 
 the blame of failure, are alike felt to be divided." 
 
 This observation on the part of the youthful secre 
 tary seemed to be regarded by the governor as pre 
 sumptuous. It elicited from him a frown of reproof. 
 His look became cold and haughty. Whereupon 
 Montignac gently added :
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 193 
 
 " As you, monsieur, remarked the other day." 
 
 La Chatre's expression immediately softened. 
 
 "The governor's brains are in the head of the 
 secretary," thought I; "and their place in his own 
 head is taken by vanity." 
 
 " I remember," returned La Chatre. " And I 
 added, did I not, that ahem, that " 
 
 " That the finding of this Huguenot nuisance 
 ought to be made the particular duty of one chosen 
 person, who should have all to gain by success, or, 
 better still, all to lose by failure." 
 
 And the suave secretary looked at his master with 
 an expression of secret contempt and amusement, 
 although the innocent governor doubtless saw only 
 the respect and solicitude which the young man 
 counterfeited. 
 
 " You are right," said the governor, with uncon 
 cealed satisfaction. " I ought to reward you for 
 reminding me. But your reward shall come, Mon- 
 tignac. The coming war will give me the oppor 
 tunity to serve both the King and the Duke of Guise 
 most effectually, and by whatever favor I .gain, my 
 faithful secretary shall benefit." 
 
 " My benefit will be due to your generosity, not to 
 my poor merit, monsieur," replied Montignac, with 
 an irony too delicate for the perception of the noble 
 governor. 
 
 " Oh, you have merit, Montignac," said La Chatre,
 
 194 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 with lofty condescension. Then he glanced at the 
 letter, and his face clouded. " But meanwhile," he 
 added, in obedience to a childish necessity of com 
 municating his troubles, " my favor depends, even 
 for its continuance in its present degree, on the 
 speedy capture of this Tournoire. The rascal 
 appears to have obtained the special animosity of 
 the Duke by some previous act. Moreover, he is an 
 enemy to the King, also a deserter from the French 
 Guards, so that he deserves death on various ac 
 counts, old and new." 
 
 Herein I saw exemplified the inability of the great 
 to forget or forgive any who may have eluded their 
 power. 
 
 " Let me, theuefore," continued the governor, 
 " consider as to what person shall be chosen for 
 the task of bagging this wary game." 
 
 And. he was silent, seeming to be considering in 
 his mind, but really, I thought, waiting for the use 
 ful Montignac to suggest some one. 
 
 " It need not be a person of great skill," said 
 Montignac, " if it be one who has a strong motive 
 for accomplishing the service with success. For, 
 indeed, the work is easy. The chosen person," he 
 went on, as if taking pleasure in showing the rapidity 
 and ingenuity of his own thoughts, " has but to go to 
 the southern border, pretending to be a Huguenot 
 trying to escape the penalties of the new edicts. In
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 1 95 
 
 one way or another, by moving among the lower 
 classes, this supposed fugitive will find out real 
 Huguenots, of whom there are undoubtedly some 
 still left at Clochonne and other towns near the 
 mountains. Several circumstances have shown that 
 this Tournoire has made himself, or his agents, acces 
 sible to Huguenots, for these escapes of heretics 
 across the border began at the same time when 
 his rescues of Huguenot prisoners began. Without 
 doubt, any pretended Protestant, apparently seeking 
 guidance to Guienne, would, in associating with the 
 Huguenots along the Creuse, come across one who 
 could direct him to this Tournoire." 
 
 " But what then ? " -said the governor, his eager 
 ness making him forget his pretence of being wiser 
 than his secretary. "To find him is not to make 
 him prisoner, for the Duke desires him to be taken 
 alive. He probably has a large following of rascals 
 as daring and clever as himself." 
 
 " Knowing his hiding-place, you would send ? 
 larger body of troops against him." 
 
 " But," interposed the governor, really glad to 
 have found a weak point in the plan suggested by 
 his secretary, " in order to acquaint me with his 
 hiding-place, if he has a permanent hiding-place, my 
 spy would have to leave him. This would excite his 
 suspicions, and he would change his hiding-place. 
 Or, indeed, he may be entirely migratory, and have
 
 196 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 no fixed place of camping. Or, having one, he might 
 change it, for any reason, before my troops could 
 reach it. Doubtless, his followers patrol the hills, 
 and could give him ample warning in case of attack." 
 
 "Your spy," said Montignac, who had availed 
 himself of the governor's interruption to empty a 
 mug of wine, "would have to find means of doing 
 two things, the first to make an appointment with 
 La Tournoire, which would take him from his men ; 
 the second, to inform you of that appointment in 
 time for you to lead or send a company of soldiers 
 to surprise La Tournoire at the appointed place." 
 
 "Par dieu, Montignac ! " cried the governor, with 
 a laugh of derision. " Drink less wine, I pray you ! 
 Your scheme becomes preposterous. Of what kind 
 of man do you take him to be, this Sieur de la Tour 
 noire, who offers a reward, in my own province, for 
 my head and that of the Duke of Guise ? " 
 
 "The scheme, monsieur," said Montignac, quietly, 
 not disclosing to the governor the slightest resent 
 ment at the latter' s ridicule, "is quite practicable. 
 This is the manner in which it can be best con 
 ducted. Your chosen spy must be provided with 
 two messengers, with whom he may have communi 
 cation as circumstances may allow. When the spy 
 shall have met La Tournoire, and learned his hiding- 
 place, if he have a permanent one, one messenger 
 shall bring the information to you at Bourges, that
 
 A SWEST LADY IN DISTRESS. l<)7 
 
 you may go to Clochonne to be near at hand for the 
 final step. Having sent the first messenger, the spy 
 shall fall ill, so as to have apparent reason for not 
 going on to Guienne. On learning of your arrival 
 at Clochonne, an event of which La Tournoire is 
 sure to be informed, your spy shall make the ap 
 pointment of which I spoke, and shall send the second 
 messenger to you at Clochonne with word of that 
 appointment, so that your troops can be at hand." 
 
 "The project is full of absurdities, Montignac," 
 said the governor, shaking his head. 
 
 "Enumerate them, monsieur," said Montignac, 
 without change of tone or countenance. 
 
 " First, the lesser one. Why impede the spy with 
 the necessity of communicating with more than one 
 messenger ? " 
 
 "Because the spy may succeed in learning the 
 enemy's hiding-place,, if there be one, and yet fail 
 in the rest of the design. To learn his hiding-place 
 is at least something worth gaining, though the pro 
 ject accomplish nothing more. Moreover, the arri 
 val of the first messenger will inform you that the 
 spy is on the ground and has won La Tournoire's 
 confidence, and that it is time for you to go to Clo 
 chonne. The appointment must not be made until 
 you are near at hand, for great exactness must be 
 observed as to time and place, so that you can surely 
 surprise him while he is away from his men."
 
 198 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Montignac, I begin to despair of you," said the 
 governor, with a look of commiseration. " How do 
 you suppose that La Tournoire could be induced to 
 make such an appointment ? What pretext could 
 be invented for requesting such a meeting ? In 
 what business could he be interested that would 
 require a secret interview at a distance from his 
 followers ? " 
 
 I thought the governor's questions quite natural, 
 and was waiting in much curiosity for the answer 
 of Montignac, of whose perspicacity I was now 
 beginning to lose my high opinion, when the inn- 
 maid entered the kitchen, and the secretary re 
 pressed the reply already on his lips. She took 
 from the spit a fowl that had been roasting, and 
 brought it to our chamber. To avoid exciting her 
 suspicions I had to leave my place of observation 
 and reseat myself on the bed.. 
 
 Having placed the fowl, hot and j uicy, on the table 
 between us, the maid went away, again leaving the 
 * - , door partly open. Blaise promptly attacked the fowl, 
 but I returned to my post of outlook. 
 
 " Lack of zeal ? " I heard the governor say. " Par- 
 dieu, where have I let a known Huguenot rest in 
 peace in my provinces since the edicts have been 
 proclaimed ? And I have even made Catholics suffer 
 for showing a disposition to shield heretics. There 
 was that gentleman of this very town "
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 199 
 
 " M. de Varion," put in Montignac. 
 
 "Ay, M. de Varion, a good Catholic. Yet 
 I caused his arrest because he hid his old friend, 
 that Polignart, who had turned heretic. Mon dieu, 
 what can I do more ? I punish not only heretics, 
 but also those who shield heretics. Yet the Duke 
 of Guise hints that I lack zeal ! " 
 
 "As to M. de Varion," said Montignac; "what 
 is your intention regarding him ? " 
 
 "To make an example of him, that hereafter no 
 Catholic will dare shelter a Huguenot on the score 
 of old friendship. Let him remain a prisoner in the 
 chateau of Fleurier until the judges, whom I will 
 instruct, shall find him guilty of treason. Then his 
 body shall hang at the chateau gate for the nourish 
 ment of the crows." 
 
 "Fortunately," said Montignac listlessly, "he has 
 no family to give trouble afterward." 
 
 "No son," replied the governor. "Did not M. 
 de Brissard say that there was a daughter ? " 
 
 "Yes, an unmarried daughter who was visiting 
 some bourgeois relation in Bourges at the time of 
 her father's arrest." 
 
 "When she learns of her father's incarceration 
 she will probably pester me with, supplications for 
 his release. See to it, Montignac, that this Mile, 
 de Varion be not suffered to approach me." 
 
 My eavesdropping was again interrupted by the
 
 200 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 return of the inn-maid. On going out of the 
 chamber this time, she closed the door. Hunger 
 and prudence, together, overcoming my curiosity, I 
 did not open it, but joined Blaise in disposing of the 
 dinner. The table at which we ate was near the 
 window of the chamber, and we could look out on 
 the grassy space of land before the inn. La Cha- 
 tre's men were moving about, looking to their horses 
 and harness, talking in little groups, and watching 
 for their master's appearance at the inn door. 
 
 Presently four new figures came into view, all 
 mounted. From our window we could see them 
 plainly as they approached the inn. One of these 
 newcomers was a young lady who wore a mask. 
 At her side rode a maid, slim, youthful, and fresh- 
 looking. Behind these were two serving boys, one 
 tall, large, and strong ; the other small and agile. 
 
 "By the blue heaven!" Blaise blurted out; "a 
 dainty piece of womankind ! " 
 
 " Silence, Blaise ! " I said, reprovingly. " How 
 dare you speak with such liberty of a lady ? " 
 
 "I thought I was supposed to be masquerading 
 as a gentleman," he growled. " But it was not of 
 the lady that I spoke. It was the maid." 
 
 The lady had the slender figure of a woman of 
 twenty. Over a tight-fitting gown of blue cloth, 
 she wore a cloak of brown velvet, which was open 
 at the front. Fine, wavy brown hair was visible
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 2OI 
 
 beneath her large brown velvet hat. She wore 
 brown gloves and carried a riding whip. As 
 for her face, her black mask concealed the upper 
 part, but there were disclosed a delicate red mouth 
 and a finely cut chin. The throat was white and 
 full. 
 
 The maid was smaller than the mistress. She 
 had a pretty face, rather bold blue eyes, an impu 
 dent little mouth, an expression of self-confidence 
 and challenge. 
 
 La Chatre's men made room for this little caval 
 cade to pass to the inn. The maid looked at them 
 disdainfully, but the lady glanced neither to right 
 nor left. Having ridden up close to the inn, they 
 dismounted and entered, thus passing out of our 
 sight. 
 
 I would fain have again looked down into the 
 kitchen, now that these attractive guests had ar 
 rived to disturb the governor's confidential talk, 
 but the inn-maid had closed our chamber door 
 tight, and I might have attracted the governor's 
 attention by opening it. Moreover, I could not long 
 cherish the idea of watching, unobserved, the move 
 ments of a lady. So, for some time, Blaise and I 
 confined our attention to the dinner, Blaise fre 
 quently casting a glance at, the door as if he would 
 have liked to go down-stairs and make a closer 
 inspection of the pretty face of the maid.
 
 2O2 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Several times we heard voices, now that of a lady, 
 now that of the,, governor, as if the two were con 
 versing together, but the words spoken were not 
 distinguishable. It did not please me to think that 
 the lady might have come hither to join the gover 
 nor. 
 
 At last the noise of La Chatre's men remounting 
 told us that the governor had rejoined them from 
 the inn. Looking out of the window, we saw him 
 at their head, a splendid, commanding figure. Mon- 
 tignac, studious-looking, despite the horse beneath 
 him, was beside the governor. I noticed that the 
 secretary sat a horse as well as any of the soldiers 
 did. I observed, too, and with pleasure, that the 
 lady was not with them ; therefore, she was still in 
 the inn. I was glad to infer that her acquaintance 
 with La Chatre was but casual, and that her meet 
 ing with him at the inn had been by chance. 
 
 The governor jerked his rein, and the troop 
 moved off, northward, bound I knew not whither, 
 the weapons and harness shining in the sunlight. I 
 turned to Blaise with a smile of triumph. 
 
 " And now what of your croakings ? " I asked. 
 " As if the safest place in all France for us was hot 
 within sound of M. de la Chatre's voice, where he 
 would never suppose us to be ! It did not even occur 
 to him to ask what guests were in the upper chamber ! 
 What would he have given to know that La Tour-
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 2O3 
 
 noire sat drinking under the same roof with him ? 
 Instead of coming to disaster, we have heard his 
 plans, and are thus put on our guard. More of 
 your evil forebodings, my amiable Blaise ! They 
 mean good." 
 
 But Blaise looked none the less gloomy. " There 
 is yet time for evil to come of this journey, my cap 
 tain," he said gravely. 
 
 I now made haste to finish my meal, that I might 
 go down into the kitchen ere the lady in the brown 
 robe should depart. 
 
 Presently, Blaise, glancing out of the window, ex 
 claimed, " The devil ! " We are not yet rid of our 
 friends ! There is one of them, at least ! " 
 
 I looked out and saw two mounted gentlemen, one 
 of whom was Montignac, the governor's secretary, 
 who had ridden back. The other, with whom he 
 was talking in low tones, and with an air of au 
 thority, was a man of my own age, dressed in the 
 shabby remains of rich clothes. His face showed 
 the marks of dissipation, and had a cynical, dare 
 devil look. Now and then a sarcastic smile broke 
 suddenly over the handsome and once noble features. 
 
 " I have seen that man, somewhere, before," said I 
 to Blaise. 
 
 While I stood searching my memory, and the man 
 sat talking to Montignac, both having stopped their 
 horses in front of the inn, there tramped up, from
 
 2O4 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the South, four other travellers, all of a kind very 
 commonly seen on the highways, in those days of 
 frequent war. They were ragged soldiers of fortune, 
 out at elbows, red of cheek and nose, all having the 
 same look of brow-beating defiance, ready to turn, in 
 a moment, into abject servility. The foremost of 
 these was a big burly fellow with a black beard, 
 and a fierce scowl. 
 
 As he came up towards the gentleman with whom 
 Montignac was talking, there suddenly came on me 
 a sense of having once, in the dim past, been in 
 strangely similar circumstances to those in 'which I 
 was now. Once, long ago, had I not looked out in 
 danger from a place of concealment upon a meeting 
 of those two men before an inn ? 
 
 The burly rascal saluted the mounted gentleman, 
 saying, in a coarse, strident voice : 
 
 " At your service, M. le Vicomte de Berquin." 
 
 " Know your place, Barbemouche ! " was the quick 
 reply. " I am talking with a gentleman." 
 
 Then I remembered the morning after my flight 
 from Paris, seven years before. Montignac's reck 
 less-looking companion h id been the gay gentleman 
 going north, at whom I had looked from an inn shed. 
 The other was the man who had afterwards chased 
 me southward at the behest of the Duke of Guise. 
 But he no longer wore on his hat the white cross of 
 Lorraine, and the Vicomte de Berquin's apparel was
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 205 
 
 no longer gay and spotless. The two had doubtless 
 fallen on hard ways. Both showed the marks of re 
 verses and hard drinking. Barbemouche's sword 
 was, manifestly, no longer in the pay of the Duke of 
 Guise, but was ready to serve the first bidder. 
 
 Barbemouche shrugged his shoulders at De Ber- 
 quin's reproof, and led his three sorry-looking com 
 panions to a bench in front of the inn, where they 
 searched their pockets for coin before venturing to 
 cross the threshold. 
 
 Montignac f now pointed to the inn, spoke a few 
 last earnest words to Berquin, handed the latter a 
 few gold pieces, cast at him a threatening look at 
 parting, and galloped off to rejoin M. de la Chatre, 
 whose cavalcade was now out of our sight. De Ber 
 quin gave him an ironical bow, kissed the gold pieces 
 before pocketing them, dismounted, and entered the 
 inn, replying only with a laugh to the supplicating 
 looks of the moneyless Barbemouche and his hungry- 
 looking comrades on the bench. 
 
 " Now I wonder what in the devil's name the 
 governor's secretary was saying to that man ? " 
 growled Blaise Tripault. 
 
 For reply, I gave a look which reflected the sur 
 mise that I saw in Blaise' s own eyes. 
 
 "Well;" I said, "if it be that, the Vicomte de 
 Berquin will be a vastly ingenious gentleman if he 
 can either find our hiding-place, or delude me away
 
 206 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 from my men. To think that they should have 
 chosen the first mercenary wretch they met on 
 their way ! Yet doubtless the perspicacious Mon- 
 tignac knows his man." 
 
 " The secretary pointed to this inn as if he were 
 telling him that you were here," observed Blaise, 
 meditatively. 
 
 " But inasmuch as the secretary does not know 
 that I am here," said I, "his pointing to the inn 
 could not have accompanied that information. He 
 was doubtless advising his friend to begin his en 
 terprise with a hearty meal, which was very good 
 advice. And now, as this Vicomte de Berquin does 
 not know me by sight, let us go down and make his 
 acquaintance. Remember that you are the master, 
 and make a better pretence of it than you have 
 usually made." 
 
 " I pretend the master no worse than you 
 pretend the servant," muttered Blaise, while I 
 opened the door of our chamber. A moment 
 later we were descending the stairs leading to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 An unexpected sight met our eyes. M. de Ber 
 quin stood with his back to a rear door, his arms 
 extended, as if to prevent the departure of the lady, 
 who stood facing him, in the attitude of shrinking 
 back from him. She still wore her mask. Beside 
 her stood her maid, who darted looks of indignation
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 2O? 
 
 at the smiling De Berquin. These three were the 
 only ones in the kitchen. 
 
 " I do not know you, monsieur ! " the lady was 
 saying, in a low voice of great beauty. 
 
 " Death of my life ! But you shall know me, 
 mademoiselle," replied De Berquin, who had not 
 noticed the entrance of myself and Blaise ; " for I 
 intend to guard you from harm on the rest of your 
 journey, whether you will or not ! " 
 
 Blaise shot at me a glance of interrogation. To 
 keep up our assumed characters, it was for him, not 
 me, to interfere in behalf of this lady; yet he dared 
 not act without secret direction from me. But I 
 forgot our pretence and hastened forward, my hand 
 on my sword-hilt. 
 
 " I fear monsieur is annoying mademoiselle," I 
 said, gently, assuming that De Berquin had been 
 correct in addressing her as mademoiselle. 
 
 Startled at the voice of a newcomer, the three 
 turned and looked at me in surprise. Blaise, at a 
 loss as to what he ought to do, remained in the 
 background. 
 
 "But," I added, "monsieur will not do so again 
 for the present." 
 
 De Berquin took me in at a glance, and, deceived 
 by my dress, said carelessly, " Go to the devil ! " 
 Then, turning from me to Blaise, as one turns from 
 an inferior to an equal, he remarked :
 
 2O8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " You have a most impudent servant, monsieur ! " 
 
 Blaise, embarrassed by the situation, and conscious 
 that the curious eyes of the lady and the maid were 
 upon him, could only shrug his shoulders in reply. 
 The maid, whom he had so much admired, turned to 
 her mistress with a look of astonishment at his seem 
 ing indifference. Seeing this, Blaise became very red 
 in the face. 
 
 It was I who answered De Berquin, and with the 
 words : 
 
 "And your servant, if you have one, has a most 
 impudent master." 
 
 De Berquin turned pale with rage at the insulting 
 allusion to his somewhat indigent appearance. 
 
 "Your master shall answer for your imperti 
 nence ! " he cried, drawing his sword and making 
 for Blaise. 
 
 In an instant my own sword was out, and I was 
 barring his way. 
 
 " Let us argue the matter, monsieur ! " said I. 
 
 "Peste ! " he hissed. " I fight not lackeys ! " 
 
 " You will fight me," I said, " or leave the presence 
 of this lady at once ! " 
 
 Impelled by uncontrollable wrath, he thrust at me 
 furiously. With a timely twist, I sent his sword fly 
 ing from his hand to the door. I motioned him to 
 follow it. 
 
 Completely astonished, he obeyed my gesture,
 
 "'LET US ARGUE THE MATTER, MONSIEUR!'"
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 2CK) 
 
 went and picked up his sword, opened the door, 
 and then turned to Blaise and spoke these words, 
 in a voice that trembled with rage : 
 
 " Monsieur, since you let your menial handle your 
 sword for you, I cannot hope for satisfaction. But 
 though I am no great prophet, I can predict that 
 both you and your cur shall yet feel the foot of 
 my lackey on your necks. And, mademoiselle," he 
 added, removing his look to the lady, "this is not 
 the end of it with you ! " 
 
 With which parting threats, he strode out of the 
 inn, closing the door after him. 
 
 Blaise, deprived by his false position of the power 
 of speech, stood with frowning brow and puffed-out 
 cheeks, nervously clutching at his sword-hilt. The 
 lady and her maid looked at him with curiosity, as if 
 a gentleman who would stand idly and speechlessly 
 by, while his servant resented an insult to a lady, 
 was a strange being, to be viewed with wonder. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said I, laying my sword on a 
 table, " heaven is kind to me in having led me where 
 I might have the joy of serving you." 
 
 The lady, whose musical voice had the sound of 
 sadness in it, answered with the graciousness war 
 ranted by the occasion : 
 
 "My good man, your sword lifts you above your 
 degree, even," and here she glanced at Blaise, and 
 continued in a tone of irrepressible contempt, "as
 
 2IO AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the tameness of some gentlemen lowers them be 
 neath theirs." 
 
 Blaise, from whose nature tameness was the at 
 tribute farthest removed, looked first at the lady, 
 in helpless bewilderment, then at me, with mute 
 reproach for having placed him in his ridiculous 
 position, and lastly at the maid, who regarded him 
 with open derision. To be laughed at by this 
 piquant creature, to whose charms he had been so 
 speedily susceptible, was the crowning misery. His 
 expression of woe was such that I could not easily 
 retain my own serious and respectful countenance. 
 
 Having to make some answer to the lady, I 
 said: 
 
 " An opportunity to defend so fair a lady would 
 elevate the most ignoble." 
 
 The lady, not being accustomed to exchanging 
 compliments with a man-servant, went to her maid 
 and talked with her in whispers, the two both gazing 
 at Blaise with expressions of mirth. 
 
 Blaise strode to my side with an awkwardness 
 quite new to him. His face was in a violent per 
 spiration. 
 
 " The devil ! " he whispered. " How they laugh 
 at me ! Won't you explain ? " 
 
 "Impossible ! " 
 
 "I object to being taken for a calf," said Blaise, 
 ready to burst with anger. Then, suddenly reaching
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 211 
 
 the limit of his endurance, he faced the lady and 
 blurted out : 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I would have run your pursuer 
 through quickly enough, but I dared not rob my 
 master " 
 
 I coughed a warning against his betraying us. 
 He hesitated, then despairingly added, in a voice of 
 resignation : 
 
 " my master, the King, of a single stroke of 
 this sword, which I have devoted entirely to his 
 service." 
 
 " I do not doubt," said the lady, with cold irony, 
 "that your sword is active enough when drawn in 
 the service of your King." 
 
 "My King," replied Blaise with dignity, "had the 
 goodness to make a somewhat similar remark when 
 he took Cahors ! " 
 
 " Cahors ? " repeated the lady in a tone of per 
 plexity. " But the King never took Cahors ! " 
 
 " The King of France, no ! " cried Blaise ; " but 
 the King of Navarre did ! " 
 
 " Blaise ! " I cried, in angry reproof at his impru 
 dence. 
 
 The tone in which I spoke had so startled the 
 lady that she dropped her mask, and I saw the 
 sweetest face that ever gladdened the eyes of a man. 
 It was the face of a girl naturally of a cheerful 
 nature, but newly made acquainted with sorrow.
 
 212 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Grief had not rendered the nature, or the face, unre 
 sponsive to transient impressions of a pleasant or 
 mirthful kind. Hers was one of those hearts in 
 which grief does not exclude all possibility of gaiety. 
 Sorrow might lie at the bottom, never forgotten and 
 never entirely concealed, but merriment might ripple 
 on the surface. As for its outlines, the face, in every 
 part, harmonized with the grace and purity of the 
 chin and mouth. Her eyes were blue and large, 
 with an eloquence displayed without intent or con 
 sciousness. 
 
 " What does it mean ? " she said, in a charming 
 bewilderment. "The servant reproves the master. 
 Ah ! I see ! The servant is the master." 
 
 And she smiled with pleasure at her discovery. 
 
 "But still your servant, mademoiselle," was all 
 that I could say. 
 
 Blaise vented a great breath of relief. " I feel 
 better now," he said, heartily, and he turned with 
 a beaming countenance to the maid, who looked at 
 his stalwart form and promptly revised her opinion 
 of him. The two were soon in conversation to 
 gether, at the fireplace, and I was left to complete 
 explanations with the lady, who did not attempt the 
 coquetry of replacing her mask. 
 
 "Our secret is yours, mademoiselle, and our 
 safety is in your hands." 
 
 " Your secret is safe, monsieur," she said, mod-
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 
 
 estly averting her eyes from my frankly admiring 
 look. " And now I understand why it was you who 
 drew sword." 
 
 " A privilege too precious to be resigned," I an 
 swered in a low tone, "even for the sake of my 
 secret and my safety." 
 
 My words were spoken so tenderly that she sought 
 relief from her charming embarrassment by taking 
 up my sword from the table, and saying, with a 
 smile : 
 
 " I have you in my power, monsieur, follower of 
 the King of Navarre ! What if I were minded, on 
 behalf of the governor of this province, to make you 
 a prisoner ? " 
 
 "My faith!" I could only reply, "you need no 
 sword to make prisoners of men." 
 
 " You hope to purchase your freedom with a com 
 pliment," she said, continuing the jest ; " but you 
 cannot close my eyes with flattery." 
 
 "It would be a crime beyond me to close eyes so 
 beautiful ! " 
 
 She gave a pretty little smile and shrug of 
 helplessness, as if to say, " I cannot help it, 
 monsieur, if you will overwhelm me with compli 
 ments which are not deserved, I am powerless to 
 prevent you." But the compliments were all the 
 more deserved because she seemed to think them 
 not so.
 
 214 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Her modesty weakened my own audacity, and her 
 innocent eyes put me into a kind of confusion. So I 
 changed the subject. 
 
 "It appears to me, mademoiselle," I said, "that I 
 have had the honor of ridding you of unpleasant 
 company." 
 
 Her face quickly clouded, as if my words had 
 brought to her mind a greater trouble than the 
 mere importunities of an insolent adventurer. 
 
 " De Berquin ! " she said, and then heaved a deep 
 sigh ; " I had forgotten about him." 
 
 " I would not commit his offence of thrusting un 
 welcome company on you," I replied ; " but I would 
 gladly offer you for a few leagues the sword that has 
 already put him to flight." 
 
 She was for some time silent. Then she answered 
 slowly in a low voice, " I ride towards Clochonne, 
 monsieur." 
 
 Taking this for an acceptance of my offer, I 
 sheathed my sword, and replied with an animation 
 that betrayed my pleasure : 
 
 " And I towards the same place, mademoiselle. 
 When you choose to set out, I am ready." 
 
 " I am ready now, monsieur ," she said, linger 
 ing over the word "monsieur," as if trying to recall 
 whether or not I had told her my name. 
 
 It was no time at which to disclose the title under 
 which I was known throughout the province as one
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 21$ 
 
 especially proscribed, and yet I was unwilling to pass 
 under a false name. Therefore, I said : 
 
 " I am M. de Launay, once of Anjou, but now of 
 nowhere in particular. The great have caused my 
 chateau to be scattered over my lands, stone by 
 stone, and have otherwise encouraged my taste for 
 travel and adventure." 
 
 At this moment, glancing towards Blaise, I saw on 
 his face a look of alarm and disapproval, as if he 
 feared that the lady or her maid might be aware 
 that De Launay and La Tournoire were one man, 
 but it was manifest from their faces that he had 
 no cause for such an apprehension. 
 
 The lady smiled at my description, and adjusting 
 her gloves, replied : 
 
 " And I am Mile, de Varion, daughter of a gentle 
 man of Fleurier " 
 
 " What ! " I interrupted, " the Catholic gentleman 
 who has been imprisoned for sheltering a Huguenot ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, sorrowfully, and then with a 
 strange trepidation she went on : " and it is to save 
 myself from imprisonment that I have determined to 
 flee to the south, in the hope of finding refuge in 
 one of the provinces controlled by your King of 
 Navarre." 
 
 " But," I interposed, " how can you be in danger 
 of imprisonment ? It was not you, but your father, 
 who violated the edict."
 
 2l6 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "Nevertheless," she answered, in a low and un 
 steady voice, averting her glance to the floor, 
 " M. de la Chatre, the governor of the province, 
 has threatened me with imprisonment if I remain 
 in Berry." 
 
 " Doubtless," I said with indignation, " the gover 
 nor does this in order to escape the importunities 
 you would make in your father's behalf. He would 
 save his tender heart from the pain of being touched 
 by your pleadings." 
 
 " It may be so," she answered faintly. 
 
 I did not tell her that the idea of releasing her 
 father had already entered my head. In order to 
 bring him safe out of the Chateau of Fleurier, it 
 would be necessary for me to return to Maury for 
 my company. The attempt would be a hazardous 
 one, and I might fail, and I did not wish to raise 
 h.opes in her for disappointment. She should not 
 learn of my intention until after its fulfillment. In 
 the meantime, less because I thought she would 
 really undergo danger by remaining at Fleurier, than 
 because I was loth to lose the new-found happiness 
 that her presence gave me, I would conduct her to 
 Maury, on the pretext of its being the best place 
 whence to make, at a convenient time, a safe flight to 
 Guienne. 
 
 Having summoned the landlord and paid him, I 
 Waited for Mile, de Varion to precede me out of the
 
 A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS. 2I/ 
 
 door. There was a moment's delay while her maid 
 sought the riding whip which mademoiselle had laid 
 down on one of the tables. At this moment, there 
 came to me the idea of a jest which would furnish 
 me with amusement on the road southward, and 
 afford mademoiselle an interesting surprise on her 
 arrival at Maury. 
 
 "It occurs to me, mademoiselle," said I, "that 
 you will be glad to have some guidance across the 
 border. Let me recommend to you one, whose 
 services I think I can assure you, and whom we 
 may fall in with in the vicinity of Clochonne, the 
 Sieur de la TournoireJ' 
 
 Mademoiselle turned white, and stared at me with 
 a look of terror on her face. 
 
 " Decidedly," I thought, " as the mere mention of 
 my name produces such an effect on her, it is well 
 that I am not going to introduce myself until she 
 shall have learned that I am not such a terrible cut 
 throat as the Catholics in this province think me." 
 And I said aloud : 
 
 " Fear not, mademoiselle. He is not as bad as 
 his enemies represent him." 
 
 " I shall be glad to have his guidance," she said, 
 still pale. 
 
 We left the inn and took horse, being joined, out 
 side, by mademoiselle's two serving-boys. Resuming 
 his character of gentleman, Blaise rode ahead with
 
 2l8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the lady, while I followed at the side of the maid, 
 he casting many an envious glance at the place I 
 occupied, and I reciprocating his feelings if not his 
 looks. Nevertheless, I was sufficiently near made 
 moiselle to be able to exchange speeches with her. 
 The day was at its best. The sun shone ; a gentle 
 breeze played with the red and yellow leaves in the 
 roadway, and I was happy. 
 
 Looking down a byway as we passed, I saw, at 
 some distance, M. de Berquin talking to Bar- 
 bemouche, while the latter's three scurvy-looking 
 companions stood by, as if awaiting the outcome of 
 the conversation between the two. 
 
 " Oho, M. de Berquin ! " I said to myself, with an 
 inward laugh ; "I do not know whether you are 
 bargaining for help to persecute Mile, de Varion, or 
 to spy on the Sieur de la Tournoire ; but it has come 
 to pass that you can do both at the same time."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 
 
 WE rode southward at an easy pace, that made 
 moiselle might not be made to suffer from fatigue. 
 Aside from the desirability of our reaching safe 
 territory, there was no reason for great haste. M. 
 de Varion had not yet been tried, and the attempt 
 to deliver him from prison need not be made imme 
 diately. Time would be required in which I might 
 form a satisfactory plan of action in this matter. It 
 would be necessary to employ all my men in it, 
 and to bring them secretly from Maury by night 
 marches, but I must not take the first step until the 
 whole design should be complete in my mind. 
 
 I suggested to mademoiselle that we first go to 
 her father's house, in Fleurier, where she might get 
 such of her belongings as she wished to take with 
 her. But she desired to take no more along than 
 was already in the portmanteaus that her boys, 
 Hugo and Pierre, carried with them on their horses. 
 She had come directly from Bourges with this bag 
 gage, having been visiting an unmarried aunt, in 
 
 219
 
 220 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 that city, when news of her father's arrest reached 
 her. 
 
 When I questioned her as to her conduct on the 
 reception of that news, her face clouded, and she 
 showed embarrassment and a wish to avoid the 
 subject. Nevertheless, she gave me answers, and I 
 finally learned that her purpose on leaving Bourges 
 had been to seek the governor of the province, im 
 mediately, and petition for her father's release. It 
 was by accident that she had met M. de la Chatre 
 at the inn, where she had stopped that her horses 
 might be baited. My persistent, though deferential, 
 inquiries elicited from her, in a wavering voice, that 
 she had not previously possessed the governor's ac 
 quaintance ; that her entreaties had evoked only the 
 governor's wrathful orders to depart from the prov 
 ince on pain of sharing her father's fate ; and that 
 La Chatre had refused to allow her even to see her 
 father in his dungeon in the Chateau of Fleurier. 
 
 HeY agitation as she disclosed thee things to me 
 became so great that I presently desisted from pur 
 suing the subject, and sought to restore brightness 
 to the face of one whose tenderness and youth made 
 her misfortune ineffably touching. 
 
 I found that, with a woman's intelligence, she had 
 a child's ingenuousness. I had no difficulty in lead 
 ing her to talk about herself. Artlessly she com 
 municated to me the salient facts of her life. Her
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 221 
 
 father, the younger son of a noble family, had passed 
 his days in study on his little portion of land near 
 Fleurier. Like myself, she had when very young 
 become motherless. As for her education, her un 
 married aunt had taught her those accomplishments 
 which a woman can best impart, while her father 
 had instructed her concerning the ancients, the arts, 
 and the sciences. She had been to Paris but once, 
 and knew nothing of the court. 
 
 Most of my conversation with mademoiselle was 
 had while we traversed a deserted stretch of road, 
 where I could, with safety, ride by her side and allow 
 Blaise to take my place with the maid, Jeannotte. I 
 could infer how deeply the good fellow had been 
 smitten with the petite damsel by the means which 
 he took to impress her in return. Far from show 
 ing himself as the wounded, sighing lover, he swelled 
 to large dimensions, assumed his most martial frown, 
 and carried himself as a most formidable personage. 
 He boasted sonorously of his achievements in battle. 
 
 "And the scar on your forehead," I heard her say, 
 as she inspected his visage with a coquettish side 
 glance ; " at what battle did you get that ? " 
 
 His reply was uttered in a voice whose rancorous 
 fierceness must have set the maid trembling. 
 
 " In the battle of the Rue Etienne," he said, 
 "which was fought between myself and a hell- 
 born Papist, on St. Bartholomew's night, in 1572.
 
 222 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 From the next house-roof, I had seen Coligny's 
 body thrown, bleeding, from his own window into 
 his courtyard, for I was one of those who were 
 with him when his murderers came, and whom he 
 ordered to flee. I ran from roof to roof, hoping to 
 reach a house where a number of Huguenots were, 
 that I might lead them back to avenge the admiral's 
 murder. I dropped to the street and ran around a 
 corner straight into the arms of one of the butchers 
 employed by the Duke of Guise that night to deco 
 rate the streets of Paris with the best blood in 
 France. Seeing that .1 did not wear the white 
 cross on my arm, he was good enough to give me 
 this red mark on my forehead. But in those days 
 I was quick at repartee, and I gave him a similar 
 mark on a similar place. Then I was knocked 
 down from behind, and when I awoke it was the 
 next day. The dogs had thought me dead. As 
 for the man who gave me this mark, I have not 
 seen him since, but for thirteen years I have prayed 
 hard to the bountiful Father in Heaven to bring us 
 together again some day, and the good God in His 
 infinite kindness will surely do so ! " 
 
 Now and then mademoiselle turned in her saddle 
 to look behind. It was when she did this for the 
 ninth or tenth time that she gave a start, and her 
 lips parted with a half-uttered ejaculation of alarm. 
 I followed her look and saw five mounted figures far
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 22$ 
 
 behind us, on the road. It was most probable that 
 these were De Berquin, Barbemouche, and the lat- 
 ter's three ragged comrades. But in this sight I 
 found no reason to be disturbed. If mademoiselle 
 .was the object of De Berquin's quest, I felt that 
 our party was sufficiently strong to protect her. 
 If he had abandoned the intention of annoying her 
 with further importunities, and was merely proceed 
 ing to Clochonne in order to act as the governor's 
 spy against me, there could be no immediate danger 
 in his presence, for he did not suspect that I was 
 the Sieur de la Tournoire. 
 
 "Be assured, mademoiselle," I said, "you hav 
 nothing whatever to fear from M. de Berquin." 
 
 " I do not fear for myself," she replied, with a 
 pathetic little smile. " It cannot be possible that, 
 having seen me only once, he should put himself 
 to so much trouble merely to inflict his attentions 
 on me." 
 
 " Then you never saw him before the meeting at 
 the inn to-day ? " I asked, in surprise. 
 
 " Never. When he addressed me and introduced 
 himself, I was surprised that he should already know 
 my name." 
 
 I then recalled that the governor's secretary, 
 Montignac, at one time, during his talk with De 
 Berquin outside our window, had pointed towards 
 the inn. Was it, then, of Mile, de Varion that he
 
 224 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 had been talking ? Montignac, of course, having 
 witnessed the interview between mademoiselle and 
 the governor, had learned her name. It must have 
 been he who had communicated it to De Berquin. 
 Had the subtle secretary entrusted the unscrupulous 
 cavalier with some commission relative to mademoi 
 selle, as well as with the task of betraying me ? It 
 was in vain that I tried to find satisfactory answers 
 to these questions. 
 
 I asked mademoiselle whether she had ever known 
 Montignac before this day. 
 
 " Never," she answered, with a kind of shudder, 
 which seemed to express both abhorrence and fear. 
 Again she grew reticent ; again the shadow and 
 the look of confusion appeared on her face. I could 
 make nothing of these signs. To attempt a solution 
 by interrogating her was only to cause her pain, and 
 rather than do that I preferred to remain mystified. 
 
 Once more mademoiselle cast an uneasy look at 
 the riders in the distance rearward. 
 
 " Ah ! " said I, with a smile, " you have no fear 
 for yourself, yet you continue to look back with an 
 expression that very nearly resembles that of fright." 
 
 " I do not fear for myself," she said, quite art 
 lessly ; " it is for you that I fear. M. de Berquin 
 will surely try to revenge himself for the humiliation 
 you gave him." 
 
 A joyous thrill sent the blood to my cheeks.
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 22$' 
 
 Without disguising my feelings, I turned and looked 
 at her. Doubtless the gladness that shone in my 
 eyes told her what was in my heart. Realizing that 
 her frank and gentle demonstration of solicitude was 
 a confession to be received with ineffable delight by 
 the man to whom it was tendered, she dropped her 
 eyes and a deep blush overspread her face. For 
 some time no word passed between us ; enough 
 had been said. I knew that the look in my eyes 
 had told more, a thousand times, than all the ex 
 travagant compliments with which I had, half banter- 
 ingly, deluged her at the inn. 
 
 We might, by hard riding, have reached Maury 
 on the night of that day, but mademoiselle's comfort 
 was to be considered, and, moreover, I desired to 
 throw De Berquin off our track before going to our 
 hiding-place. Therefore, when Clochonne was yet 
 some leagues before us, we turned into a by-way, 
 and stopped at an obscure inn at the end of a small 
 village. This hostelry was a mere hut, consisting of 
 a kitchen and one other apartment, and was kept by 
 an old couple as stupid and avaricious as any of their 
 class. The whole place, such as it was, was at our 
 disposal. The one private room was given over to 
 mademoiselle and Jeannotte for the night, it being 
 decided that I and Blaise should share the kitchen 
 with the inn-keeper and his wife, while the two boys 
 should sleep in an outer shed with the horses.
 
 '226 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Roused from sluggishness by the sight of a gold 
 piece, which Blaise displayed, the old couple suc 
 ceeded in getting for us a passable supper, which 
 we had served to us on the end of an old wine- 
 butt outside the inn, as the kitchen was intoler 
 ably smoky. 
 
 "A poor place, mademoiselle," said I, ashamed 
 of having conducted so delicate a creature to this 
 miserable hovel. 
 
 "What would you have?" she replied, with a 
 pretty attempt to cover her dejection by a show of 
 cheerfulness. " One cannot flee, for one's liberty, 
 through the forest, and live in a chateau at the 
 same time. 
 
 As for the others, hunger and fatigue made any 
 fare and shelter welcome. Blaise, in particular, found 
 the wine acceptable. Conscious of the glances of 
 Jeannotte, now flashing, now demure, he strove to 
 outdo himself in one of his happiest accomplish 
 ments, that of drinking. The two boys, Hugo 
 and Pierre, emulated his achievements, and only 
 the presence of mademoiselle deterred our party 
 from becoming a noisy one. 
 
 Blaise became more and more exuberant as he 
 made the wine flow the more generously. Seeing 
 a way of diverting mademoiselle from her sad 
 thoughts, I set him to telling of the things he 
 had done in battle when controlled by the sangui-
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 22/ 
 
 nary spirit of his father. He had a manner of nar 
 rating these deeds of slaughter, which took all the 
 horror out of them, and made them rather comical 
 than of any other description. He soon had mad 
 emoiselle smiling, the maid laughing, and the two boys 
 looking on him with open-eyed admiration. Finding 
 Jeannotte and the boys so well entertained, mad 
 emoiselle allowed them to remain with Blaise when 
 she retired to her room. 
 
 I followed her to the inn door, and bade her rest 
 without fear, assuring her that I would die ere the 
 least harm should befall her. 
 
 " Nay," she answered smiling, " I would endure 
 much harm rather than buy security at such a 
 price." 
 
 For an instant her smooth and delicate fingers lay 
 in mine. Then they were swiftly withdrawn, and 
 she passed in, while I stood outside to muse, in the 
 gathering dusk, upon the great change that had come 
 over the world since my first meeting with her, six 
 hours before. The very stars and sky seemed tc 
 smile upon me ; the moonlight seemed to shine for 
 me consciously with a greater softness ; the very 
 smell of the earth and grass and trees had grown 
 sweeter to me. I thought how barren, though I had 
 not known it, the world had been before this trans 
 formation, and how unendurable to me would be a 
 return of that barrenness.
 
 228 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 I rejoined the now somewhat boisterous party at 
 the wine-butt in time to catch Blaise making an at 
 tempt to kiss Jeannotte, who was maintaining a fair 
 pretence of resistance. She seemed rather displeased 
 at my return, for as Blaise, unabashedly, continued his 
 efforts, she was compelled, in order to make her coy 
 ness seem real to me, to break from him, and flee 
 into the inn. 
 
 Blaise, in whom the spirit of his father was now 
 manifestly gaining the ascendancy, consoled himself 
 for the absence of Jeannotte by drinking more heroi 
 cally and betaking to song. The boys labored assidu 
 ously to keep him company. Finally the stalwart 
 fellow, Hugo, succumbed to the effects of the wine, 
 and staggered off to the shed. Pierre followed him 
 a few minutes later, and Blaise was left alone with 
 the remains of the wine.'* The landlord and his wife 
 had retired to rest, on their pallets on the kitchen 
 floor, some time before. Blaise sat on a log, singing 
 to himself and cursing imaginary enemies, until all 
 the wine at hand was exhausted. Then he let me 
 lead him into the kitchen, where he immediately 
 dropped to the floor, rolled over on his back, and 
 began snoring with the vigor that characterized all 
 his vocal manifestations. 
 
 Making a pillow of my cloak, I lay down beside 
 him, and tried to sleep ; but the stale air of the 
 kitchen, the new thoughts to which my mind clung
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 2 29 
 
 with delight, the puzzling questions that sought to 
 displace those thoughts, and the tremendous snoring 
 of both the landlord and his wife, as well as of Blaise, 
 made slumber impossible to me. I therefore rose, 
 and went out of the inn. At a short distance away 
 was a smooth, grassy knoll, now bathed in moonlight. 
 I decided to make this my couch. I had proceeded 
 only a few steps from the inn when the silence of 
 the early night was disturbed by the sound of foot 
 steps on the crisp, fallen leaves in the woods close at 
 hand. 
 
 The smallness of the village and the obscurity of 
 the locality gave importance to every sound, proceed 
 ing from a human source, at this hour. I, therefore, 
 dropped behind the thick stump of a tree, where I 
 might see and hear without being observed. Pres 
 ently a figure emerged from the edge of the wood 
 and moved cautiously towards the inn. It stopped, 
 made a gesture towards the wood, and then contin 
 ued its course. Three more figures then came out 
 of the wood, one very tall, one exceedingly broad, 
 and the third extremely thin. They came on with 
 great caution, and finally joined the first comer near 
 the inn. By this time I had recognized the leader 
 as my old friend, Barbemouche. The others were 
 his companions. 
 
 I awaited their further proceedings with curiosity. 
 Was it in quest of us, at the behest of De Berquin,
 
 230 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 that they had come hither so cautiously and without 
 their horses ? Very probably. Doubtless, from afar, 
 they had seen us turn into the byway which, as one 
 or more of them perhaps knew, led to this inn and 
 to no other. It was not likely that, having certainly 
 made some bargain with De Berquin, and being 
 moneyless, they had quitted his service so soon. 
 Yet, if they were now carrying out orders of his 
 against mademoiselle or against me, the supposed 
 lackey who had incurred his wrath, why was he not 
 with them ? I hoped soon to see these questions 
 answered by the doings of the rascals themselves. 
 The fat ruffian sank down, with a heavy sigh of 
 relief, on the log where Blaise had sat. He pulled 
 down with him the thin fellow, who had been clutch 
 ing his arm as if for support. The latter had a 
 wavy, yellow beard, a feminine manner, and a dandi 
 fied air, as if he might once have been a fop at the 
 court before descending to the rags which now cov 
 ered him. The fat hireling had a face on which 
 both good nature and pugnacity were depicted. At 
 present he was puffing from his exertions afoot. 
 The most striking figure of the group was that of 
 the tall rascal. He was gaunt, angular and erect, 
 throwing out his chest, and wearing a solemn and 
 meditative mien upon his weather-beaten face. This 
 visage, long enough in its frame-work, was further 
 extended by a great, pointed beard. There was
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 2$ I 
 
 something of grandeur about this cadaverous, frown 
 ing, Spanish-looking wreck of a warrior, as he stood 
 thoughtfully leaning upon a huge two-handed sword, 
 which he had doubtless obtained in the pillage of 
 some old armory. 
 
 "The place seems closed as tight as the gates of 
 Heaven to a heretic," growled Barbemouche, scruti 
 nizing the inn. 
 
 The tall fellow here awoke from his reverie, and 
 spoke in solemn, deliberate tones : 
 
 "Would it not be well to wake up the landlord 
 and try his wine ? " 
 
 " Wake up the devil ! " cried Barbemouche angrily. 
 " Nobody is to be waked up. We are simply to find 
 out whether they are here, and then go back to the 
 Captain. Your unquenchable thirst will take you 
 to hell before your time, Fra^ois." 
 
 " It is astonishing," put in the fat fellow, looking 
 at the tall, lean Francois, " how so few gallons of 
 body can hold so many gallons of wine." 
 
 "Would I had your body to fill with wine, An- 
 toine," said Francois, longingly ; and then, casting an 
 unhappy look at the inn, he added, " and the wine to 
 fill it with." 
 
 " What are you shaking for, Jacques ? " asked fat 
 Antoine of his slim comrade at his side. " One would 
 think you were afraid. Haven't you told us that love 
 of fighting was the one passion of your life ? "
 
 232 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Death of the devil, so it is ! " replied Jacques in 
 a soft voice, and with a lisp worthy of one of the 
 King's painted minions. " That is what annoys me, 
 for if this insignificant matter should come to a fight, 
 and I should accidentally be killed in so obscure an 
 affair, how could I ever again indulge my passion for 
 fighting ? " 
 
 Meanwhile, Barbemouche had gone to the door 
 and cautiously opened it, no one having barred it 
 after my departure from the kitchen. I could hear 
 the sound of Blaise's superb snoring, mingled with 
 the less resonant efforts of the old couple. Barbe 
 mouche surveyed as much of the kitchen as the 
 moonlight disclosed to him. Then he quietly shut 
 the door and turned to his fellows. 
 
 " It is well," he said. " The gentleman himself is 
 snoring his lungs away just inside the door. There 
 is another room, and it is there that the women must 
 be. The others are probably in the shed. Let us 
 go quietly, as it would not be polite to disturb their 
 sleep." 
 
 Whereupon Barbemouche led the way back to 
 the woods, followed by fat Antoine, who toiled 
 puffingly, Jacques, who stepped daintily and seemed 
 fearful of treading on stones and briars, and last of 
 all Frangois, who moved at a measured pace, with 
 long strides, retaining his air of profound meditation. 
 The sound of the crushing of leaves beneath their
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 233 
 
 feet became more distant, and finally died out 
 entirely. 
 
 In vain I asked myself the meaning of this 
 strange investigation. Manifestly the present ob 
 ject of De Berquin was nothing more than to keep 
 himself informed of our whereabouts. But why had 
 he sent all four of his henchmen to find out whether 
 we were at this inn, when one would have sufficed ? 
 I abandoned the attempt to deduce what his exact 
 intentions were. Drowsiness now coming over me, 
 and the night air having grown colder, I repaired 
 to the shed for the purpose of obtaining there the 
 repose that had been denied me in the kitchen. I 
 was satisfied in mind that whatever blow De Ber 
 quin intended to strike for the possession of mad 
 emoiselle, or for revenge upon myself, would be 
 attempted at a time and place more convenient 
 to him. Knowing that my slumbers invariably 
 yielded to any unusual noise, I allowed myself to 
 fall asleep on a pile of straw in the shed. 
 
 I know not how long I had slept, when I sud 
 denly awoke with a start and sat upright. What 
 noise had invaded my sleep, I could not, at that 
 moment, tell. The place was then perfectly quiet, 
 save for the regular breathing of the two boys, and an 
 occasional movement of one of the horses. The shed 
 was still entirely dark, excepting where a thin slice of 
 moonlight entered at a crack. I sat still, listening.
 
 234 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Presently a low sound struck my ear, something 
 between a growl and a groan. I quickly arose, 
 left the shed, and ran to a clump of bushes at the 
 side of the inn, whence the sound proceeded. Sep 
 arating the bushes I saw, lying prone on the ground 
 among them, the stalwart body of Blaise. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " I cried. " Speak ! Are 
 you wounded"?" 
 
 The only reply was a kind of muffled roar. Look 
 ing closer, I saw that Blaise' s mouth and head were 
 tightly bound by the detached sleeve of a doublet, 
 and this had deterred him from articulating. I saw, 
 also, that his legs had been tied together, and his 
 hands fastened behind him with a rope. 
 
 I rapidly released his legs, and he stood up. 
 Then I undid his hands, and he stretched out his 
 arms with relief. Finally I unboundjiis mouth and 
 he spoke : 
 
 " Oh, the whelps of hell ! To fall on a man when 
 'he is sleeping off his wine, and tie him up like a 
 trussed fowl ! I will have the blood of every cursed 
 knave of them ! And the maid ! Grandmother of 
 the devil ! They have taken the maid ! Come, 
 monsieur, let us cut them into pieces, and save 
 the maid!" 
 
 But I held him back, and cried : " And mademoi 
 selle, what of her ? Speak, you drunken dog ! Have 
 you let her be harmed ? "
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 235 
 
 " She is perfectly safe," he answered, in his turn 
 holding me back from rushing to the inn. " I do 
 not think that she was even awakened. What use 
 to let her know what has happened ? If we rescue 
 the maid and the maid will hold her tongue, made 
 moiselle will never know what danger she has 
 escaped." 
 
 "Or what vigilant protectors she has had to guard 
 her sleep," I said, with bitter self-reproach, no 
 longer daring to blame Blaise for a laxity of which 
 I had been equally guilty. " You are right," I went 
 on, " she must know nothing. Now tell me at once 
 exactly what has occurred." 
 
 Blaise would rather have looked for his sword, 
 and started off immediately to the rescue of the 
 maid, but I made him stand with me in the shadow 
 of the inn and relate. 
 
 " From the time when I fell asleep on the kitchen 
 floor," he said, " I knew nothing until a little while 
 ago, when I awoke, and found myself still where I 
 had lain down, but tied up as you found me yonder. 
 Four curs of hell were lifting me to carry me out. 
 I tried to strike, but the deep sleep, induced by that 
 cursed wine, had allowed them to tie me up as 
 neatly as if I had been a dead deer. Neither could 
 I speak, though I tried hard enough to curse, you 
 may be sure. So they brought me out, and laid me 
 down there by the inn-door. 'Would it not be
 
 236 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 best to stick a sword into him ? ' said one of the 
 rascals, a soft speaking, womanish pup. A hungry- 
 looking giant put the point of an old two-handed 
 sword at my breast, as if to carry out the suggestion ; 
 but a heavy, black-bearded scoundrel, whose voice I 
 think I have heard before, pushed the sword away 
 and said: 'No, the captain has a quarrel to adjust 
 with him in person. We are to concern ourselves 
 entirely with the lady. Lay him yonder.' So they 
 carried me over to the bushes. 'And now for the 
 others,' said the giant. ' Why lose time over them ? ' 
 said the burly fellow, who seemed to be the leader ; 
 'they are sleeping like pigs in the shed. Come! 
 We can do the business without waking them up.' 
 
 " So they left me lying on the ground and went 
 into the inn again, very quietly. They must have 
 gone, without waking the landlord or his wife, into 
 the room of mademoiselle and her maid. Presently 
 they came out again, carrying the maid. When they 
 had gone about half way to the woods, they stopped 
 and set her on her feet. So far, I suppose, it was the 
 wine that kept her asleep ; but now she awoke, and 
 I could see her looking around, very scared, from one 
 to the other of the four rascals. Then she gave a 
 scream. At that instant, there came rushing from 
 the woods, with his sword drawn, your friend, the VI 
 comte de Berquin. ' Stand off, rascals ! ' he shouted, 
 as he ran up to them. They drew their weapons, and
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 237 
 
 made a weak pretense of resisting him ; then, when 
 each one had exchanged a thrust with him, they all 
 turned tail, and made off into the woods. 
 
 " M. de Berquin now turned to the maid, who had 
 fallen to her knees in fright. Taking her hand, he 
 said, ' Mademoiselle, I thank Heaven I arrived in time 
 to give you the aid your own escort failed to afford. 
 Perhaps now you will be the less unwilling to accept 
 my protection ! ' the maid now looked up at him, and 
 he got a good view of her face. He started back as 
 if hell had opened before him, threw her hand from 
 his, turned towards the woods, and shouted to the 
 four rascals, ' You whelps of the devil, you have made 
 a mistake and brought the maid ! ' He was about to 
 follow them, when it probably occurred to him that if 
 left free the maid would disclose his little project ; for 
 he stood thinking a moment, then grasped the fright 
 ened maid by the wrist, and ran off into the woods, 
 dragging her after him. All this I saw through 
 an opening in the bushes while I lay helpless and 
 speechless. By industriously working my jaw, I at 
 last succeeded in making my mouth sufficiently free 
 to produce the sounds which brought you to me. 
 Now, monsieur, let us hasten after the maid, for 
 mademoiselle will be vastly annoyed to lose her 
 precious Jeannotte." 
 
 I saw that Blaise knew with what argument I was 
 quickest to be moved.
 
 238 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Blaise," I said, " do not pretend that it is only 
 for mademoiselle's sake that you are concerned. In 
 your anxiety about the maid, you forget the danger 
 in which mademoiselle still lies, and which requires 
 me to remain here. When the ingenious De Berquin 
 learns, from his four henchmen, that mademoiselle 
 was not awakened, he will certainly repeat his at 
 tempt. He thinks to win her favor by appearing 
 to be her rescuer from these four pretended assail 
 ants, and, at the same time, to make us seem un 
 worthy to protect her. He does not know that she 
 has seen the four rascals in his company. He wishes 
 to work with his own hand his revenge upon us, 
 and so he has let us live. I see the way to make 
 him so ridiculous in the eyes of mademoiselle that 
 he will never dare show his face to her again." 
 
 " But the maid ! " persisted Blaise. 
 
 "They will doubtless secure her somewhere in the 
 woods, and return here to enact, with mademoiselle 
 herself, the sham rescue which they mistakenly car 
 ried out with the maid. Go and seek your precious 
 Jeannotte, if you please, but do not let them discover 
 you. Wait until they leave her before you try to 
 release her." 
 
 Blaise was quick to avail himself of this conditional 
 commission. He went with me into the kitchen, 
 where the old couple were sleeping as noisily as ever, 
 and found his sword where he had laid it before
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 239 
 
 supper. The door to mademoiselle's room was ajar. 
 Standing at the threshold, I could hear her breathing 
 peacefully, unaware of the peril from which, by a 
 blunder, she had been saved. Through the small 
 window of the room came a bar of moonlight which 
 lighted up her face. It was a face pale, sad, inno 
 cent, the face of a girl transformed, in an instant, 
 to womanhood by a single grief. 
 
 Leaving her door as I had found it, I went from 
 the inn to the shed, still wearing my sword, which I 
 had put on in first leaving the kitchen after my futile 
 attempt to sleep. Blaise was already making rapidly 
 for the woods. 
 
 I quietly awoke Hugo and Pierre, and bade them 
 put on their weapons and remain ready to respond 
 to my call. I then posted myself again behind the 
 tree stump near the inn door and awaited occur 
 rences. 
 
 By this time clouds had arisen, and the moonlight 
 was frequently obscured. I had waited about half 
 an hour, when, again, the sound of breaking leaves 
 and sticks warned me that living beings were ap 
 proaching through the woods. At last I made out 
 the four figures of De Berquin's hirelings as they 
 cautiously paused at the edge of the open space. 
 Apparently assured by the silence that their pres 
 ence was unsuspected, they came on to the inn. 
 In a moment of moonlight, I perceived, also, the
 
 240 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 figure of De Berquin, who stood at the border of 
 the woods watching the proceedings of his varlels. 
 Even as I looked, he withdrew into the shadow. 
 At the same time a heavy mass of cloud cast dark 
 ness over the place. 
 
 But I could descry the black forms of the four 
 rascals huddled together at the door of the inn, 
 . which the foremost cautiously opened. A moment 
 later they had all entered the kitchen. 
 
 I glided rapidly through the darkness after them, 
 and took my stand just within the door, where any 
 one attempting to pass out must encounter me. 
 The four rascals were now at the inner door lead 
 ing to the room of mademoiselle. 
 
 " Stand off, rascals ! " I cried, assuming the tone 
 of De Berquin. In the same moment, I gently punc 
 tured the back of the nearest rascal with my sword. 
 
 Surprised at what they took for the premature 
 advent of their master, the fellows turned and stood 
 for a moment undecided. But, by thrusting my 
 sword among them, -I enabled them to make up their 
 minds. They could but blindly obey their instruc 
 tions, and so they came towards me with a feeble 
 pretense of attack. In the darkness it was impos 
 sible for them to make out my features. I met 
 their sham assault with much greater vigor than De 
 Berquin had led them to expect from him. This 
 they might have been moved to resist, in earnest,
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 24! 
 
 but for the fear of losing their pay, which De Ber- 
 quin, in order to secure himself against treachery 
 on their part, would certainly have represented as 
 being, not on his person, but somewhere awaiting 
 his call. Thus deterred from making a sufficient 
 defence against my sword-play, and as mademoiselle, 
 awakened by the noise, had hastened to her door 
 and was looking on, the four adventurers soon con 
 sidered that their pretense of battle had lasted long 
 enough. A howl of pain from Barbemouche, evoked 
 by a wound in the groin, was the signal for their 
 general flight. As I still stood in the doorway to 
 bar all exit there, they sought other ways of egress. 
 The slim Jacques ran past mademoiselle into her 
 room and bolted through the window. Barbemouche 
 managed to go through the rear window of the 
 kitchen, and the fat Antoine tried to follow him, 
 but succeeded only as to his head, arms, and shoul 
 ders. Squeezed tightly into the opening, he re 
 mained an irresistible temptation to the point of my 
 sword, and at every thrust he beat the air with his 
 legs, and shrieked piteously. The tall Francois, in 
 attempting to reach this window at one stride, had 
 stumbled against the bodies of the terrified inn 
 keeper and his wife, and he now labored, vainly, to 
 release his leg from the grasp of the old woman, 
 who clung to it with the strength of desperation. 
 I took mademoiselle by the hand and led her out
 
 242 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 into the air. Here we were joined by Hugo and 
 Pierre, who had run around from the shed at the 
 noise. I was just about to answer her look of be 
 wilderment and inquiry, when there came a loud 
 cry: 
 
 "Stand off, rascals!" 
 
 And on rushed De Berquin from the woods, mak 
 ing a great flourish with his sword as he came. In 
 the darkness, seeing mademoiselle standing with 
 three men, one of whom had led her rapidly from 
 the inn, the inventive Vicomte had taken us three 
 for his own zealous henchmen. 
 
 And so he came, like some giant-slaying chevalier 
 of the old days, crying again : " Stand off, rascals ! " 
 and adding, " You hounds, release this lady ! " 
 
 " Fear not for the lady ; her friends are here ! " 
 I said, motioning Hugo and Pierre aside and step 
 ping forward with mademoiselle, my drawn sword 
 in my right hand. 
 
 The moon reappeared, and showed De Berquin 
 standing with open mouth, as if turned to stone. 
 In a moment this astonishment passed. 
 
 "Thousand devils!" he cried. "The cursed 
 lackey!" 
 
 And he made a wrathful thrust at me, but I dis 
 armed him now as neatly as at the inn. Thereupon, 
 he picked up his sword and made rapidly off to the 
 woods. Turning towards the inn, I saw the tall
 
 THE FOUR RASCALS. 243 
 
 fellow and his fat comrade leaving it, the former 
 bearing his huge sword on his shoulder. They 
 avoided us by a detour, and followed De Berquin. 
 The two who had escaped by windows had, doubt 
 less, already reached the protection of the trees. 
 I began to explain to mademoiselle, and was ask 
 ing myself how best to account for the absence 
 of Jeannotte, when I saw Blaise coming from the 
 woods, bearing the maid in his arms. To prevent 
 her from returning to the inn, De Berquin had 
 caused Barbemouche to bind her to a tree. When 
 her captors had departed to make a second attempt 
 against mademoiselle, the maid had set up a moan 
 ing, and this had guided Blaise to her side. 
 
 It was now impossible to conceal any of the 
 night's events from mademoiselle, but she, far from 
 blaming our lack of vigilance, feigned to think her 
 self indebted to us for a second rescue from the 
 attentions of her persecutor. During the rest of 
 that night her slumbers were more faithfully 
 guarded, although they were not threatened again.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 THE next morning we resumed our way south' 
 ward. The weather was clear and fine, yet Mile, de 
 Varion seemed more heavy at heart than she had 
 been on the preceding day. This could not be at 
 tributed to any apprehension of further annoyance 
 from De Berquin, for, as her talk showed, she 
 believed that he would not again trouble her after 
 his having cut so poor a figure with his attempt at 
 an intended rescue. But though I did not tell her, I 
 had good reason to believe that we were not yet 
 done with him. The failure of his attempt with 
 regard to mademoiselle, whether or not that attempt 
 had been dictated by Montignac, would not make 
 him abandon the more important mission concerning 
 the Sieur de la Tournoire. Therefore, I was likely 
 to encounter him again, and probably nearer Maury, 
 and, as it was my intention that mademoiselle should 
 remain under my protection until after my venture 
 in behalf of her father, it was probable that she, too, 
 would see more of her erstwhile pursuer. I would 
 
 244
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 245 
 
 allow events to dictate precautions against the dis 
 covery of my hiding-place by . De Berquin, against 
 his interference with my intended attempt to deliver 
 M. de Varion, and against his molesting Mile, de 
 Varion during my absence from her on that attempt. 
 I might have killed De Berquin when I disarmed 
 him on the previous night, but I did not wish to 
 make him, in the least, an object of mademoiselle's 
 pity, and, moreover, I was curious to see what means 
 he would adopt towards hunting me down and betray 
 ing me. 
 
 Not only the dejection of Mile, de Varion made 
 our ride a melancholy one, despite the radiance of 
 the autumn morning. Blaise, repentant of his over 
 indulgence, and still feeling the humiliation of the 
 easy capture made of him by four scurvy knaves, 
 had taken refuge in one of those moods of pious 
 reflection which he attributed to maternal influence. 
 Piqued at this reticence, the maid, Jeannotte, main 
 tained a sulky silence. The two boys, devoted to 
 their mistress, now faithfully reflected her sad and 
 uneasy demeanor. 
 
 " Look, mademoiselle ! " said I, glad of having 
 found objects toward which to draw her attention, 
 " yonder is the Chateau of Clochonne. Beyond that, 
 and to the right, are the mountains for which we are 
 bound. It is there that I shall introduce to you the 
 Sieur de la Tournoire."
 
 246 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Mademoiselle looked at the distant towers and the 
 mountains beyond with an expression of dread. She 
 gave a heavy sigh and shuddered in her saddle. 
 
 "Nay, mademoiselle," I said; "you have nothing 
 to fear there." 
 
 She turned pale, and answered, in a trembling 
 voice : 
 
 " Alas, monsieur ! Am I not about to put those 
 mountains between myself and my father ? " 
 
 I thought of the joy that I should cause and the 
 gratitude that I should win, should I succeed in 
 bringing her father safe to her on those mountains, 
 but I kept the thought to myself. 
 
 We skirted Clochonne by a wide de"tour, fording 
 the Creuse at a secluded place, and ascended the 
 wooded hills in single file. After a long and toil 
 some progress through pathless and deeply shaded 
 wilds, we reached, in the afternoon, the forest inn 
 kept by Godeau and his wife. It had been my 
 intention to stop and rest here, and to send Blaise 
 ahead to Maury, that one of the rooms of our ruined 
 chateau might be made fit for mademoiselle's recep 
 tion. I had expected to find the inn, as usual, 
 without guests, but on approaching it we heard the 
 sound of music proceeding from a stringed instru 
 ment. We stopped at the edge of the small, cleared 
 space before the inn and sent Blaise to reconnoitre. 
 He boldly entered and presently returned, followed
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 247 
 
 by the decrepit Godeau and his strapping wife, Mari 
 anne. Both gave us glad welcome, the old man with 
 obsequious bows which doubtless racked his rheu 
 matic joints, the woman with bustling cordiality. 
 
 " Be at ease, monsieur," said Marianne. " We 
 have no one within except two gypsies, who will 
 make music for you and tell your fortunes. Godeau, 
 look to the horses." 
 
 I dismounted and assisted mademoiselle to de 
 scend. Then, on the pretext of giving an order, I 
 took Marianne and Godeau aside, and bade them to 
 address me as M. de Launay, not on any account as 
 M. de la Tournoire. The old man then saw to our 
 horses, and Marianne brought us wine. 
 
 "Before sunset," I said to mademoiselle, as I 
 raised my glass, "you shall meet the Sieur de la 
 Tournoire at his hiding-place." 
 
 Mile, de Varion turned pale, and, as if suddenly 
 too weak to stand, sat down on a wooden bench 
 before the inn door. Jeannotte ran to support her. 
 
 "Before sunset ! " she repeated, with a shudder. 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle, unless you are too ill to 
 proceed. I fear the fatigue of this ride has been 
 too much for you." 
 
 She gave a look of relief, and replied : 
 
 " I fear that it has. I shall be better able to go 
 on to-morrow, unless there is danger in remaining 
 here."
 
 248 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " There is very little danger. People crossing the 
 mountains by way of Clochonne now use the new 
 road, which is shorter. If, by any chance, soldiers 
 from the Clochonne garrison should come this way 
 and detain us as fleeing Huguenots, we could sum 
 mon help, for we are so near the hiding-place of 
 the Sieur de la Tournoire." 
 
 Again that shudder ! Decidedly, in the accounts 
 that she had received of me, I must have been rep 
 resented as a very terrible personage. I smiled at 
 thinking of the surprise that awaited her in the 
 disclosure of the truth. 
 
 It was thereupon arranged that we should stay 
 at Godeau's inn until the next morning. Made 
 moiselle's portmanteaus were carried to the upper 
 chamber, which was a mere loft, but preferable to 
 the kitchen. Thither, after eating, she went to 
 rest. Blaise then departed to direct the desired 
 preparations at Maury, with orders to return to the 
 inn before nightfall. Jeannotte and the two boys 
 remained in the kitchen to hear the music of the 
 two gypsies, a man and a girl. Having nothing 
 better to do, I took my seat on the bench outside 
 the inn and sat musing. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, I heard the light step of 
 mademoiselle on the threshold. On seeing me, she 
 stopped, as if it were I whom she had come out to 
 seek. I rose and offered her the bench. She sat
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 249 
 
 down in silence, and for a moment her eyes rested 
 on the ground, while on her face was a look of 
 trouble. Suddenly she lifted her glance to mine 
 and spoke abruptly, as if forcing herself to broach a 
 subject on which she would rather have been silent. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said, " I suppose that the Sieur 
 de la Tournoire, whom we are so soon to meet, is a 
 very dear friend of yours ! " 
 
 " A very close friend," I replied, with an inward 
 smile. "And yet he has got me into so much 
 trouble that I might fairly consider him my enemy." 
 
 "I must confess," said she, "that I have heard 
 little of him but evil." 
 
 " It is natural that the Catholics in Berry should 
 find nothing good to say of him," I replied. " Yet 
 it is true that he is far from perfect, - a subtle 
 rascal, who dons disguises, and masquerades as 
 other than he is, a leader of night-birds, and some 
 times a turbulent roysterer." 
 
 "I have been told," she said, "that he treacher 
 ously killed a man in Paris, and deserted from the 
 French Guards." 
 
 "As for the killing," I replied, "there was no 
 treachery or unfairness on his part ; and if he deserted 
 from the King's French Guards, it was when the 
 King had consented to give him up to the Duke 
 of Guise, whom the weak King, then as now, hated 
 as much as feared."
 
 250 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 She gave a heavy sigh, and went on, " La Tour- 
 noire is a brave man, of course ? " 
 
 "He is a man," I said, "who expects to meet 
 death as he meets life, cheerfully, not hoping too 
 much, not fearing anything." 
 
 "And this hiding-place of his," she said, in a very 
 low voice, again dropping her glance to the ground. 
 "Tell me of it." 
 
 I gave her a description of the ruined Chateau of 
 Maury. 
 
 " But," she said, " is not the place easily acces 
 sible to the troops of the Governor?" 
 
 "The troops of the garrison at Clochonne have 
 not yet found the way to it," I replied. "The 
 chateau was abandoned twenty years ago. Its 
 master is an adventurer in the new world, if he 
 is not dead. Its very existence has been forgotten, 
 for the land pertaining to it is of no value. The 
 soldiers from Clochonne could find it only by scour 
 ing this almost impenetrable wilderness." 
 
 "Is there, then, no road leading to it ? " she asked. 
 
 "This road leads hither from Clochonne, and on 
 southward across the mountain. There are the 
 remains of a by-road leading from here westward to 
 the chateau, and ending there. But this by-road, 
 almost entirely recovered by the forest, is known 
 only to La Tournoire and his friends. A better 
 way for the Governor's soldiers to find La Tour-
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 2$ I 
 
 noire's stronghold, if they but knew, would be to 
 take the road along the river from Clochonne to 
 Narjec, and to turn up the hill at the throne-shaped 
 rock half-way between those towns. At the top of 
 that hill is Maury, hidden by dense woods and 
 thickets." 
 
 Mile, de Varion, who had heard my last words 
 with a look of keen attention and also of bitter pain 
 of mind, now rose and walked to and fro as if med 
 itating. Inwardly I lamented my inability to drive 
 from her face the clouds which I attributed to 
 her increasing distress, as she found herself further 
 and further from her father and her home, bound for 
 still gloomier shades and wilder surroundings. 
 
 I asked if she would go in and hear the music of 
 the gypsy, or have him come out and play for her ; 
 but she thanked me with a sorrowful attempt at a 
 smile, and returned to her own chamber. 
 
 When the sun declined, I ordered Marianne to 
 prepare the best supper that her resources would 
 allow, and then, as it was time that Blaise should 
 have been back from Maury, I went to a little knoll, 
 which gave a view of a part of the abandoned by 
 road, to look and listen for him. Presently, I heard 
 the sound of a horse's footfalls near the inn, and 
 made haste back to see who rode there. Just as I 
 reached the cleared space, I saw the rider disap 
 pearing around a bend of the road which led to
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Clochonne. Though I saw only his back, I recog 
 nized him as mademoiselle's boy, Pierre, mounted 
 on one of her horses. 
 
 On the bench before the inn sat mademoiselle 
 herself, alone. She gave a start of surprise when 
 I came up to her. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, " I have just seen your 
 boy, Pierre, riding towards Clochonne." 
 
 "Yes," she replied, looking off towards the dark 
 est part of the forest. "I I was alarmed at your 
 absence. I did not know where you had gone ; I 
 sent him to look for you." 
 
 "Then I would better run after and call him 
 back," I said, taking a step towards the road. 
 
 " No, no ! " she answered, quickly. " Do not leave 
 me now. He will come back soon of his own ac 
 cord. I told him to do so if he did not find you. 
 I must ask you to bear with me, monsieur. The 
 solitude, the strangeness of the place, almost appal 
 me. I feel a kind of terror when I do not know 
 that you are near." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, sitting beside her on the 
 bench, " I cannot describe that which I shall feel, if 
 I am doomed ever to know that you are not near 
 me. It will be as if the sun had ceased to shine, 
 and the earth had turned barren." 
 
 A blush mounted to her cheeks ; she dropped her 
 humid eyes ; her breast heaved. For an instant she
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 253 
 
 seemed to have forgotten her distresses. Then sor 
 row resumed its place on her countenance, and she 
 answered, sadly : 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, when you shall have truly known 
 me!" 
 
 " Have I not known you a whole day ? " I asked. 
 "I wonder that life had any relish for me before 
 yesterday. It seems as if I had known you always, 
 though the joy that your presence gives me will 
 always be fresh and novel. Ah, mademoiselle, if 
 you knew what sweetness suddenly filled the world 
 at my first sight of you ! " 
 
 I took her hand in mine. She made a weak effort 
 to withdraw it ; I tightened my hold ; she let it re 
 main. Then she turned her blue eyes up to mine 
 with a look of infinite trust and yielding, so that 
 I felt that, rapid as had been my own yielding to 
 the charm of her beauty and her gentleness, she had 
 as speedily acknowledged in me the man by whom 
 her heart might be commanded. 
 
 As we sat thus, the gypsy within, who had been 
 for some time aimlessly strumming his instrument, 
 began to sing. The words of his song came to us 
 subdued, but distinct : 
 
 " The sparkle of my lady's eyes 
 
 Ah, sight that is the fairest ! 
 The look of love that in them lies 
 Ah, thrill that is the rarest !
 
 254 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Oh, comrades mine, gp roam the earth, 
 
 You'll find in all your roving 
 That all its other joys are worth 
 
 Not half the joys of loving ! " 
 
 "Ah, mademoiselle," I whispered, "before yester 
 day those words would have meant nothing to me ! " 
 
 She made no answer, but closed her eyes, as if to 
 shut out every thought but consciousness of that 
 moment. 
 
 And now the gypsy, in an air and voice expressive 
 of sadness, as he had before been expressive of rap 
 ture, sang a second stanza : 
 
 " But, ah, the price we have to pay 
 
 For joys that have their season ! 
 And, oh, the sadness of the day 
 
 When woman shows her treason ! 
 Her look of love is but a mask 
 
 For plots that she is weaving. 
 Alas, for those who fondly bask 
 
 In smiles that are deceiving ! " 
 
 I thought of Mile, d' Arency, but not for long ; for 
 suddenly Mile, de Varion started up, as if awakened 
 from a dream, and looked at me with an expression 
 of unspeakable distress of mind. 
 
 " Oh, monsieur ! " she cried. " You must leave 
 me ! I must never see you again. Go, go, or let 
 me go at once ! " 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " I cried, astonished.
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 255 
 
 " I beg you, make no objections, ask no questions ! 
 Only go ! It is a crime, an infamy, for me to have 
 listened while you spoke as you spoke a while ago ! 
 I ought not to have accepted your protection ! Go, 
 monsieur, and have no more to do with the most 
 miserable woman in France ! " 
 
 She started to go into the inn, but I caught her 
 by the hand and detained her. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," I said, gently, "the difference in 
 our religions need not forbid such words between us 
 as I have spoken. I can understand how you regard 
 it as an insuperable barrier, but it is really a slight 
 one, easily removed, as it has been in many notable 
 cases." 
 
 "Monsieur," she replied, resolutely, shaking her 
 head, " I say again, we must part. I am not to be 
 urged or persuaded. The greatest kindness you can 
 do me is to go, or let me go, without more words." 
 
 "But, mademoiselle," I interposed, "it will be 
 very difficult for you to continue your flight across 
 this border without a guide. Not to speak of the 
 danger from men, there is the chance of losing your 
 way." 
 
 " The Sieur de la Tournoire will not refuse me his 
 guidance," she said, in a voice that seemed forced to 
 an unwonted hardness. 
 
 " Then you will discard my protection, and accept 
 his, a stranger's ? "
 
 256 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Yes, because he is a stranger, thank God ! " 
 
 What, I asked myself, was to be the end of this ? 
 Would she not, on learning that La Tournoire was 
 myself, all the more decidedly insist on going her 
 own way ? Therefore, before disclosing myself to 
 her, I must accustom her to the view that a differ 
 ence in religion ought not to separate two who love 
 each other. In order to do this, I must have time ; 
 so I said : 
 
 " At least, mademoiselle, you will let me show you 
 the way to Maury, and present to you the Sieur de la 
 Tournoire. That is little to ask." 
 
 " I have already accepted too much from you," she 
 replied, hesitating. 
 
 " Then cancel the obligation by granting me this 
 one favor." 
 
 " Very well, monsieur. But you will then go im 
 mediately ? " 
 
 " From the moment when you first meet La Tour 
 noire, he shall be your only guide, unless you yourself 
 choose another. In the meantime," I added, for she 
 had taken another step towards the inn, " grant me 
 at least as much of your society as you would bestow 
 on an indifferent acquaintance, who happened to be 
 your fellow-traveler in this lonely place." 
 
 She gave a sigh which I took as meaning that the 
 more we should see each other, the harder the part 
 ing would be at last, but she said, tremulously :
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 " We shall meet at supper, monsieur, and to-mor 
 row, when you conduct me on to Maury." Then she 
 entered the inn, but stopped on the threshold, and, 
 casting on me a strangely wistful look, she added, 
 " Great must be the friendship between you and La 
 Tournoire, that you can so confidently assure his 
 protection to those for whom you ask it." 
 
 " Oh, I have done much for him, and he cannot 
 refuse me any request that it is in his power to 
 grant," I said, truly enough. 
 
 " Then," she went on, " the tie is one of obligation, 
 rather than of great friendship ? " 
 
 " Yes. I have often been in a position to do him 
 great services when no one else was, and when he 
 most needed them. As for my feeling of friendship 
 for him, I shall not even weep when he is dead." 
 
 " Suppose you should love a woman," she con 
 tinued, with a strange eagerness, "and there should 
 come a time when you would have to choose between 
 your love for her, and your friendship for this man, 
 which would prevail ? " 
 
 " I would sacrifice La Tournoire for the woman I 
 loved," I answered, with truth. 
 
 She looked at me steadily, and a hope seemed to 
 dawn in her eyes, but in a moment they darkened 
 again ; she sighed deeply, and she turned to ascend to 
 her chamber, while I stood there trying to deduce 
 a meaning from her strange speeches and conduct,
 
 258 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 which I finally put down to the capriciousness of 
 woman. I could understand the feeling that she 
 ought to part from a man who loved her and whom 
 her religion forbade her to love in return ; but why 
 she should seem pleased at the apparent lukewarm- 
 ness of my friendship for La Tournoire, whom she 
 was willing to accept as her guide, I could not guess. 
 Since she intended to part from me, never to see me 
 again, what mattered it to her whether or not I was 
 the intimate of a proscribed ruffian ? Yet she seemed 
 glad to hear that I was not, but this might be only 
 seeming. I might not have read her face and tone 
 aright. Her inquiries might have been due to curi 
 osity alone. So I thought no more of them, and gave 
 my mind instead to planning how she might be made 
 to ignore the difference between our religions, and to 
 revoke the edict banishing me from her side. It 
 would be necessary that she should be willing to re 
 main at Maury, with a guard composed of some of 
 my men, while I, giving a pretext for delaying the 
 flight and for the absence of myself and the most 
 of my company, should attempt the delivery of her 
 father from the chateau of Fleurier. It was my hope, 
 though I dared not yet breathe it, that I might bring 
 her father and my company back to Maury, and that 
 all of us might then proceed to Guienne. 
 
 My meditations were interrupted by the return of 
 Blaise from Maury, where he had found all well and
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 259 
 
 the men there joyous at the prospect of soon rejoin 
 ing the army in Guienne. A part of the company 
 was absent on a foraging raid. Two of the roofed 
 chambers were rapidly being made habitable for Mile, 
 de Varion, whom Blaise had announced to the men 
 as a distinguished refugee. 
 
 When supper was ready in the kitchen, I sent 
 Jeannotte to summon her mistress. Mademoiselle 
 came down from her chamber, her sweet face be 
 tokening a brave attempt to bear up under the many 
 woes that crushed her, the condition of her father, 
 her own exile, the peril in which she stood of the 
 governor's reconsidering his order and sending to 
 make her prisoner, the seeming necessity of exchang 
 ing my guidance for that of a stranger who had been 
 painted to her in repulsive colors, and the other un 
 happy elements of her situation. 
 
 " It is strange that the boy, Pierre, has not re 
 turned," I said, while we sat at table. 
 
 Mademoiselle reddened. It then occurred to me 
 that, in her abstraction, she had not even noticed 
 his absence, and that now it came on her as a new 
 trouble. 
 
 " Pardon me for speaking of it in such a way as to 
 frighten you," I said. " There is no cause for alarm. 
 Not finding me on the road, he may have turned into 
 the woods to look for me, and so have lost his way. 
 He would surely be able to find the road again."
 
 260 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "I trust he will not coma to any harm," replied 
 mademoiselle, in a low voice that seemed forced, as 
 if she were concealing the fears that she really felt. 
 
 Jeannotte cast a sympathetic look at her mistress. 
 
 " Shall I go and look for him ? " asked Hugo, 
 showing in his face his anxiety for his comrade. 
 
 "You would lose yourself, also," I said. "Mad 
 emoiselle, I shall go, for I know all the hillocks and 
 points of vantage from which he may be seen." 
 
 " Nay, monsieur, do not give yourself the trouble, 
 I pray you." 
 
 But I rose from the table, to show that I was 
 determined, and said : 
 
 " Blaise, I leave you as guard. Remember last 
 night." 
 
 " I am not likely to forget," he growled; dropping 
 his eyes before the sharp glance of Jeannotte. "Mad 
 emoiselle need have no fears." 
 
 " But, monsieur," said mademoiselle. She was 
 about to continue, but her eye met Jeannotte' s, and 
 in the face of the maid was an expression as if 
 counselling silence. So mademoiselle said no more, 
 but she followed me to the door, and stood on the 
 threshold. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said, " if you do not find him 
 within a few minutes, I entreat that you will not put 
 yourself to further discomfort. See, it is already 
 nearly dark. If he be lost in the woods for the
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 26 1 
 
 night, he can doubtless find his way hither to 
 morrow." 
 
 " I shall not seek long, mademoiselle, for the 
 reason that I would not be long away from you." 
 
 At that moment, feeling under my foot something 
 different from leaves or earth, I stooped and found 
 one of mademoiselle's gloves, which she had dropped, 
 probably, on first entering the inn. Remaining in 
 my kneeling posture and looking up at her sweet, 
 sad face, I said : 
 
 "Whatever may come in the. future, mademoiselle, 
 circumstance has made me your faithful chevalier 
 for a day. Will you not give me some badge of 
 service that I may wear forever in memory of that 
 sweet, though sorrowful day ? " 
 
 " Keep what you have in your hand," she replied, 
 in a low voice, and pointed to her glove. 
 
 I rose, and fastened the glove on my hat, and said : 
 "They shall find it on me when I am dead, mad 
 emoiselle." Then I turned to go in search of Pierre. 
 
 " I shall go to my room now," she said, " and so, 
 good-night, monsieur ! " 
 
 I turned, and made to take her hand that I might 
 kiss it, but she drew it away, and then, standing on 
 the threshold, she raised it as one does in bestowing 
 a benedicite, and said : 
 
 " God watch you through the night, monsieur ! " 
 
 " And you forever, mademoiselle ! " said I, but
 
 262 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 she had gone. For a moment I stood looking up 
 at her chamber window, thinking how it had come 
 over me again, as in the days of my youth, the long 
 ing to be near one woman. 
 
 Night was now coming on. In the deeper shades 
 of the forest it was already dark, but the sky was 
 clear, and soon the moon would rise. Musing as I 
 went, I walked along the road that Pierre had first 
 taken. The only sounds that I heard were the 
 ceaseless chirps and whirrs of the insects of the 
 bushes and trees. 
 
 When I had gone some distance, I bethought me 
 of my heedlessness in coming away from the inn 
 without my sword. I had taken this off before 
 sitting down to eat, and at my departure my mind 
 had been so taken up with other matters that I had 
 omitted to put it on. My dagger was with it at the 
 inn. At first I thought of returning for these weap 
 ons, but I considered that I would not be away long, 
 and that there was no likelihood of my requiring 
 weapon in these solitudes. So I continued on my 
 way towards a knoll whence I expected to get a 
 good view of the road, and thus, should Pierre be 
 returning on that road, spare myself the labor of 
 plunging into the wood's depths and listening for 
 the footsteps of his horse or of himself. 
 
 I had walked several minutes in the increasing 
 darkness, when there came to my ears, from the
 
 A DISAPPEARANCE. 263 
 
 shades at the right, the sound of a human snore. 
 Had the boy fatigued himself in trying to find the 
 way, and fallen asleep without knowledge of his 
 nearness to the inn? 
 
 " Pierre ! " I called. There was no answer. 
 
 I called again. Again there was no reply, but 
 the snoring ceased. A third time I called. My call 
 was unheeded. 
 
 I turned into the wilds, and forced my way through 
 dense undergrowth. At a short distance from the 
 road, I came on traces of the passage of some one 
 else. Following these, I arrived at last at a small 
 open space, where the absence of vegetation seemed 
 due to some natural cause. Sufficient of the day's 
 failing light reached the clearing to show me the 
 figures of four men on the ground before me, three 
 of them stretched in slumber, the fourth sitting up. 
 The last held a huge old two-handed sword over his 
 shoulder, ready to strike. The threatening attitude 
 of this giant made me take mechanically a step back 
 ward, and feel for my sword. Alas, I was unarmed ! 
 
 " So, my venturesome lackey, we meet again ! " 
 came a sarcastic voice from the left, and some one 
 darted between me and the four men, facing me 
 with drawn sword. 
 
 It was the Vicomte de Berquin, and a triumphant 
 smile was on his face. 
 
 Moved by the thought that mademoiselle's safety
 
 264 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 depended on me, I was not ashamed, being unarmed, 
 to turn about for immediate flight. But I had no 
 sooner shown my back to M. de Berquin, than I 
 found myself face to face with the scowling Barbe- 
 mouche, who stood motionless, the point of his sword 
 not many inches from my breast.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD AND KEPT IT. 
 
 I STOOD still and reflected. 
 
 " You lack a weapon," said M. de Berquin, humor 
 ously. " I shall presently give you mine, point first." 
 
 As I was still facing Barbemouche, I imagined the 
 point of the Vicomte's sword entering my back, and 
 I will confess that I shivered. 
 
 "And I mine," growled Barbemouche. "Though 
 you are a lackey and I a gentleman, yet, by the 
 grandmother of Beelzebub, I am glad to see you ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I, whose only hope was to gain 
 time for thought. " This is a heartier welcome than 
 a stranger might expect." 
 
 De Berquin laughed. Barbemouche said, "You 
 are no stranger." 
 
 " Then you know me ? " said I. " Who am I ? " 
 
 "You are the answer to a prayer," said Barbe 
 mouche, with an ugly grin. " You thought you 
 fooled us finely last night, and that when you had 
 made a hole in my body you had done with me. 
 But I got a look at you after the mistake was dis- 
 
 265
 
 266 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 covered, and I vowed the virgin a dozen candles in 
 return for another meeting with you. And now she 
 has sent you to me." 
 
 And he looked at me with such jubilant vindictive- 
 ness that I turned and faced De Berquin, saying : 
 
 " Monsieur the Vicomte, I have made up my mind 
 that your visage is more pleasant to look on than 
 that of your friend." 
 
 By this time, the other three rascals on the ground 
 had been awakened by the tall fellow, and the four 
 had taken up their weapons and placed themselves at 
 the four sides of the open space, so that I could not 
 make a bolt in any direction. All the circumstances 
 that made my life at that time doubly precious rushed 
 into my mind. On it depended the safety of Mile. 
 de Varion, the rescue of her father, the expeditious 
 return of my brave company to our Henri's side, and 
 certain valuable interests of our Henri's cause. I 
 will confess that it was for its use to mademoiselle, 
 rather than for its use to our Henri, that I most 
 valued, at that moment, the life which there was 
 every chance of my speedily losing. In De Ber 
 quin, and in Barbemouche as well, vengeance cried 
 for my immediate death. Moreo'ver, my death would 
 remove the chief obstacle to De Berquin's having his 
 will concerning Mile, de Varion. For an instant, I 
 thought he might let me live that I might tell him 
 her whereabouts, but I perceived that my presence
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 267 
 
 was indication to him that she was near at hand. He 
 could now rely on himself to find her. The oppor 
 tunity of removing me from his way was not to be 
 risked by delay. It was true that I might obtain 
 respite by announcing myself as the Sieur de la 
 Tournoire, for he would wish to present me alive 
 to the governor, if he could do so. The governor 
 and the Duke of Guise would desire to season their 
 revenge on me with torture, and to attempt the forc 
 ing from me of secrets of our party. But to make 
 myself known as La Tournoire was but to defer my 
 death. The life that I might thus prolong could not 
 be of any further service to mademoiselle or to Henri 
 of Navarre. Still, I might so gain time. I might 
 escape ; my men might rescue me. So, as a last 
 resource, I would save my life by disclosing myself ; 
 but I would defer this disclosure until the last pos 
 sible instant. De Berquin and Barbemouche were 
 evidently in for amusing themselves awhile at my 
 expense. They would prolong matters for their own 
 pleasure and my own further humiliation. Meanwhile, 
 an unexpected means of eluding them might arise. 
 
 As for their presence there, I have always ac 
 counted for it on this supposition : That, after their 
 defeat on the previous night, they had reunited in 
 the woods, hidden themselves where they might 
 observe our departure from the inn in the morning, 
 followed us at a distance into the mountain for-
 
 268 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 est, lost our track, and finally, knowing neither of 
 Godeau's inn nor of their nearness to the road, dis 
 mounted, and sought afoot an open space in which to 
 pass the night. Their horses were probably not far 
 away. 
 
 "Ha!" laughed De Berquin, in answer to my 
 words and movement. " So you don't share Bar- 
 bemouche's own opinion of his beauty ? " 
 
 An unctuous guffaw from the fat rascal, and a 
 grim chuckle from gaunt Francois, indicated that 
 Barbemouche's ugliness was a favorite subject of 
 mirth with his comrades. 
 
 " The opinion of a dead lackey does not amount to 
 much," gutturally observed Barbemouche. Doubtless 
 I should have felt the point of his rapier between my 
 shoulders but that he waited on the will of De Ber 
 quin. 
 
 His tone showed that he really had the high 
 regard for his looks that De Berquin's words had 
 implied. It afterward became evident to me that 
 the ugliness of this burly rascal was equalled only 
 by his vanity. 
 
 " Nor is a dead lackey half as useful as a living 
 one can be," I said, looking De Berquin straight in 
 the eyes. 
 
 " Par dieu / I admit that you have been very useful 
 against me, and that is why I am going to kill you," 
 replied De Berquin.
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 269 
 
 " Would it not be more worthy of a man of intel 
 lect, like the Vicomte de Berquin, if I have been 
 useful against him, to make me pay for it by being 
 useful for him?" I said, quietly, without having yet 
 the least idea of what service I should propose doing 
 him in return for my life. 
 
 " Most interesting of lackeys, how might you be 
 useful to me ? " inquired De Berquin, continuing his 
 mood of sinister jocularity. 
 
 How, indeed ? I asked myself. Aloud I answered 
 slowly, in order to have the more time to think : 
 
 " In your present enterprise, monsieur." 
 
 " The devil ! What do you know of my present 
 enterprise ? " he asked, quickly. 
 
 I saw that I had at least awakened his interest in 
 the idea that I might be worth using alive. 
 
 "I will tell you," I answered, "if you will first 
 ask this unpleasant person behind me to step aside." 
 
 " Unpleasant person ! " repeated Barbemouche, 
 astonished at my audacity. "You dog, do you 
 speak in such terms of a gentleman ? " 
 
 So he was under the delusion also that he pos 
 sessed gentility. 
 
 " Stop, Gilles ! " commanded De Berquin. " Go 
 yonder, while I listen to this amusing knave. Let 
 him talk awhile before he dies." 
 
 Barbemouche sullenly went over to the side of 
 Francois, and stood there glowering at me. It was
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 a relief to know that his sword-point was no longer 
 at my back. 
 
 " Now, rascal ! " said De Berquin to me. " My 
 present enterprise, and how you can be useful to me 
 in it?" 
 
 " In the first place, monsieur," I began, having 
 no knowledge how I was to finish, "you and your 
 gallant company are doubtless tired, hungry, and 
 thirsty " 
 
 An assenting grunt from the tall fellow, and a 
 look of keen interest on the faces of all, showed that 
 I had not spoken amiss. 
 
 "You are quite lost in these woods," I went on. 
 " You do not know how near you may be to any 
 road or to any habitation, where you might have 
 roof, food, and drink. Heaven, in giving me the 
 pleasure of meeting you, has also done you the kind 
 ness of sending one who can guide you to these 
 blessings. That is the first service I can do you." 
 
 " Very well, you shall do it. I can kill you as 
 well afterwards." 
 
 " But I will not do it unless I have your promise, 
 on your honor as gentlemen, to give me both my life 
 and my liberty immediately." 
 
 " My very modest lackey, you greatly undervalue 
 both your life and your liberty, if you think you can 
 buy them from me at so small a cost. No ; you 
 offer too little. The pleasure of killing you far
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 
 
 exceeds that of having your guidance. Now that 
 we have happily met you, we know that there must 
 be shelter, food, and drink somewhere near at hand. 
 We can find them for ourselves in as short a time, 
 perhaps, as it would require you to take us there. 
 We shall doubtless have the happiness of meeting 
 there your very gallant master and the lady whom he 
 protects with your arm and sword. Having robbed 
 him of his means of guarding his lovely charge, I 
 shall in fairness relieve him of the charge." 
 
 I perceived here the opportunity of learning 
 whether it was under the governor's orders, re 
 ceived through Montignac, that De Berquin pursued 
 mademoiselle while he came in quest of the Sieur de 
 la Tournoire, or whether it was on his own account. 
 
 "Your infatuation for this lady must be very 
 great," I said, in a tone too low for his four followers 
 to distinguish my words, " to lead you to force your 
 presence on her." 
 
 "My infatuation!" he repeated, and then he 
 laughed. " My very knowing lackey, if you were 
 better informed of my affairs, you would know that 
 an infatuation for Mile, de Varion is a luxury that I 
 cannot at present afford. A man who has lost his 
 estates, his money, his king's favor, and who has 
 fled from his creditors in Paris to prey on the prov 
 inces, thinks not of love, but of how to refill his 
 pockets."
 
 2/2 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "Then it is not for love that you pursue Mile. 
 de Varion ? " I said. I now believed, as I had first 
 thought, that the governor had changed his mind 
 after ordering mademoiselle to leave the province, 
 had decided to hold her in durance, and had com 
 missioned De Berquin to detain her, as well as to 
 hunt down me. But I put the question in order 
 to get further time for thought. 
 
 "For love, yes; but not for mine!" was the 
 answer. 
 
 This startled me. " For that of M. de la Chatre ? " 
 I asked, quickly. 
 
 "You seem to be curious on this point," said De 
 Berquin, derisively. 
 
 "If I am to die," I replied, "you can lose nothing 
 by gratifying my curiosity. If I am to live, I 
 may be the better able to serve you if you gratify 
 it." . 
 
 "I am not one to refuse the request of a man 
 about to die," he said, with a self-amused look. " It 
 is not La Chatre, the superb, whose amour I have 
 come into this cursed wilderness to serve." 
 
 "Then who ?" But I stopped at the begin 
 ning of the question, as a new thought came to me. 
 " The secretary ! " I said. 
 
 " Montignac, the modest and meditative," replied 
 De Berquin. 
 
 I might have thought it. What man of his age,
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 2/3 
 
 however given to deep study and secret ambition, 
 could have been insensible to her beauty, her grace, 
 her gentleness ? Such a youth as Montignac would 
 pass a thousand women indifferently, and at last per 
 ceive in Mile, de Varion at first glance the perfec 
 tions that distinguished her from others of her sex. 
 Doubtless, to him, as to me, she embodied an ideal, 
 a dream, of which he had scarcely dared hope to 
 find the realization. Seeing her at the inn, he had 
 been warmed by her charms at once. He had re 
 solved to avail himself of his power and of her 
 helplessness. Her father in prison, herself an exile 
 without one powerful friend, she would be at his 
 mercy. Forbidden by his duties to leave the gov 
 ernor's side, he could charge De Berquin, in giving 
 the latter the governor's orders concerning myself, 
 with the additional task of securing the person of 
 mademoiselle, that he might woo her at his leisure 
 and in his own way. The governor, ready enough 
 to frighten into an unwarranted exile a woman whose 
 entreaties he feared, would yet not be so ungallant 
 as to give her to his secretary for the asking. But 
 Montignac might safely hold her prisoner, the gover 
 nor would think that she had left the province, there 
 would be none to rescue her. Such were the acts, 
 designs, and thoughts that I attributed to the ret 
 icent, far-seeing, resolute secretary. All passed 
 through my mind in a moment.
 
 2/4 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 And now I feared for mademoiselle as I had not 
 feared before. I never feared a man, or two men at 
 a time, who came with sword in hand ; but how is 
 one to meet or even to perceive the blows aimed by 
 men of thought and power ? Such as Montignac, 
 inscrutable, patient, ingenious, strong enough to con 
 ceal their own passions, which themselves are more 
 intense and far more lasting than the passions of a 
 mere man of fighting, are not easily turned aside 
 from the quest of any object on which they have 
 put their desires. One against whom they have set 
 themselves is never safe from them while they live. 
 Years do not make them either give up or forget. 
 Montignac, by reason of his influence over the gov 
 ernor, had vast resources to employ. He could turn 
 the machinery of government to his own ends, and 
 the trustful governor not suspect. In that slim 
 youth, smooth-faced, pale, repressed, grave, not al 
 ways taking the trouble to erase from his features 
 the signs of his scorn for ordinary minds, a scorn 
 mingled with a sense of his own power and with 
 a kind of derisive mirth, in this quiet student 
 I beheld an antagonist more formidable than any 
 against whom I had ever been pitted. In thinking^ 
 of him, I came at once to regard De Berquin, who 
 still stood facing me with ready sword, and on his 
 face the intention of killing me plainly written, as 
 a very inconsiderable opponent, even when backed
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 2/5 
 
 by his four ruffians with their varied collection of 
 weapons. 
 
 If I was to save Mile, de Varion from the designs 
 of the far-reaching secretary, it was time that I eluded 
 the danger immediately confronting me. 
 
 For a few moments after De Berquin uttered the 
 speech last recorded, I stood silent, my eyes meet 
 ing his. 
 
 "Come," he said, presently, impatiently giving 
 several turns of his wrist so that his sword-point 
 described arcs in the air before my eyes. "We 
 wander from the subject. What service can you 
 do me ? Don't think you can keep me talking 
 until your party happens to come up. I intend to 
 kill you when I shall have counted twenty, unless 
 before that time you make it appear worth my while 
 to let you live. One, two, three " 
 
 His look showed that he had ceased to be amused 
 at my situation. Alive, I had begun to bore him. 
 It was time to make sure of his vengeance. His 
 men stood on all sides to prevent my flight. At my 
 least movement, he would thrust his rapier deep into 
 my body. He went on counting. What could I 
 offer him to make him stay his hand ? Was there 
 anything in the world that he might desire which it 
 would appear to be in my power to give him ? 
 
 "Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen," he counted, taking 
 exact note of the distance between us.
 
 276 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 As in a flash the idea came to me. 
 
 "Monsieur," I said, loudly, so as to be plainly 
 heard above his own voice, "let me go and I will 
 deliver to you the Sieur de la Tournoire ! " 
 
 He had reached nineteen in his count. He stopped 
 there and stared at me. 
 
 " The Sieur de la Tournoire," he repeated, as if the 
 idea of his taking the Sieur de la Tournoire were 
 a new one. 
 
 " You speak, monsieur," said I, quietly, " as if you 
 had not come to these hills for the purpose of catch 
 ing him." 
 
 He looked at me with a kind of surprise, but said 
 nothing in reply to my remark. " It is natural," 
 thought I, " for him not to disclose his purpose, even 
 when there is no use for him to conceal it." 
 
 " I take La Tournoire ? " he said, presently, half to 
 himself. He stood thinking for a time, during which 
 I supposed that he was considering the propriety of 
 his personally making the capture, in view of the plan 
 that I had overheard Montignac suggest to the gov 
 ernor, namely, that the spy should merely lure La 
 Tournoire into an ambush where the governor's 
 soldiers should make the seizure. The spy had 
 doubtless received orders strictly in accordance 
 with this plan, La Tournoire being considered too 
 great game to be bagged by anything less than 
 a company of soldiers.
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 2/7 
 
 " Why not ? " said I. " Whoever does so will 
 receive a good price in addition to the gratitude 
 of M. de la Chatre and that of the Duke of Guise. 
 Indeed, the feat might even win you back the King's 
 favor, which you say you have lost." 
 
 " But suppose Montignac has other plans for the 
 capture of this highly valued rebel ? " said he. 
 
 "If he had," said I, thinking of the arrangement 
 as to the ambush, "they were made in the belief 
 that La Tournoire was not to be taken by one man 
 with a few hired knaves. The captor of La Tour 
 noire can afford to earn Montignac's displeasure by 
 deviating from his orders. Should you take this 
 Huguenot, you would be in a position to snap your 
 fingers at Montignac." 
 
 " But if it is in your power to give up La Tour 
 noire, why do you not take him and get the reward ? 
 Why have you not done so already ? " 
 
 " For the very fact which puts it in my power to 
 do so. I am of his party. I am his trusted coun 
 sellor, lackey that I pretend to be." 
 
 " I have, from the first, thought you a most 
 exceptional lackey. But if you are of his party, 
 and in his secrets, you must be a vile traitor to 
 give him up. That being the case, you would not 
 hesitate to lie to me. Indeed, even if it were not 
 the case, you would not hesitate to lie to me, to save 
 yourself or to gain time."
 
 2/8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " As to my being a vile traitor, a man will descend 
 to much in order to save his life. As to my readi 
 ness to lie to you, it seems to me that, in the present 
 situation, you are the one man to whom I cannot 
 now afford to lie. With your sword at my throat, it 
 is much easier for me to be a vile traitor to La Tour- 
 noire than to lie to you. Besides, I have my own 
 reasons for disliking him, notwithstanding that my 
 cause and his are the same." 
 
 "And how do you propose to give him up to 
 me ? " 
 
 " By merely bringing him face to face with you." 
 
 " Par dieu ! A charming proposition ! How do I 
 know that you will not, in pretending to betray him 
 to me, really betray me to him ? Suppose you do 
 bring him face to face with me, and his men are all 
 around ? " 
 
 " Only one of his men shall be present," I said, 
 thinking of Blaise. " He will not come without this 
 one man. As for the others of his band, not one 
 shall be within a league." 
 
 " Himself and one man," said De Berquin, mus 
 ingly. "That is to say, two very able fighters." 
 
 " There are five of you." 
 
 " But this Tournoire is doubtless worth three men 
 in a fight, and his man will probably be worth two 
 more. I don't think your offer sufficiently attrac 
 tive. I think I would do better to kill you. Cer-
 
 HO W THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 2/9 
 
 tainly, there are many reasons why you should die. 
 If you should escape me now, as you are one of La 
 Tournoire's people, you would immediately go to him 
 and tell him of my presence here. I do not choose 
 that he shall know as much about me as you do." 
 
 " Can you suggest any amendment to my offer, so 
 that it might be more attractive ? " 
 
 " If you could bring La Tournoire unarmed " 
 
 " I will do that," I said. 
 
 De Berquin looked at me steadily for some time. 
 At last he shook his head and said : 
 
 " It is a fair bargain, as it now stands, but I see 
 no way of your carrying out your part without put 
 ting me in danger of your betraying me.' To find 
 La Tournoire, you would have to leave us. Once 
 out of our sight, you would be free to ignore the con 
 tract, laugh at me for being so easily gulled, and set 
 La Tournoire and his men on me, which would .en 
 tirely spoil my plans. Every minute I see more and 
 more the necessity of killing you." 
 
 " But I shall find La Tournoire without going out 
 of your sight," I said. 
 
 De Berquin again became thoughtful. Then he 
 laughed. 
 
 " You mean that you would lead us up to his very 
 den, where we should be at the mercy of his men," 
 he said. 
 
 " I have already said that, with one exception,
 
 28O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 none of his men shall be within a league of where 
 you are to meet him." 
 
 " I do not see how you are going to bring him so 
 far from his men, if you do not go for him." 
 
 " Leave that to me. I shall take you to a place 
 where he will present himself unarmed. Excepting 
 the man who will be with him, not one of his com 
 pany shall be within a league." 
 
 " Where is the place ? " asked De Berquin, still 
 smiling ironically. 
 
 " Not far from here. It is a place where you can 
 get also wine and food." 
 
 " And how am I to know that this place is not a 
 trap into which you wish to lead me ? " 
 
 "You shall walk behind me with drawn sword 
 and dagger. At the slightest suspicious movement 
 or speech that I make, you can easily kill me." 
 
 <* That is true. Yet I might lose my own life the 
 next moment. Who knows but that you are merely 
 seeking to sell your life as dearly as possible, or 
 but that you are aiming to gain time in the hope of 
 some unexpected occurrence ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," said I, "we both know that men can 
 not read the heart. You cannot be sure whether or 
 not I am lying. You indeed take the risk that I 
 wish to lead you where you will have to pay for my 
 life with your own, and that I am trying to gain time ; 
 but, at the same time, there is the chance that I in-
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 28 1 
 
 tend to keep my word, that I intend to present the 
 Sieur de la Tournoire unarmed, and a league away 
 from all his men but one. Is not that chance worth 
 the risk ? Have you not gambled, monsieur ? " 
 
 From the shrug of De Berquin's shoulders, I 
 knew that he had gambled, and also that my argu 
 ment had moved him. But another doubt darkened 
 his face. 
 
 " And if you do bring an unarmed person before me, 
 how shall I know that it is La Tournoire ? " said he. 
 
 " He shall tell you so himself." 
 
 " Excellent proof ! " 
 
 " What man but La Tournoire would risk his life 
 by declaring himself to be that proscribed gentle 
 man ? " 
 
 " One of his followers might do so, if he thought 
 that he might so throw an enemy off La Tournoire's 
 track." 
 
 " Then the possibility of my deceiving you on that 
 point is but an additional risk you run, in return 
 for the chance of your bagging the real game. 
 Besides, I give you my word of honor that I will 
 truly perform all that I promise." 
 
 "The word of a lackey!" said De Berquin, de 
 risively. 
 
 "Have you not yourself described me as an ex 
 ceptional lackey?" 
 
 " Well, I love to take chances. And as you have
 
 282 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 given me your word, the word of an exceptional 
 lackey, I give you my word, the word of a gentle 
 man, that if you set La Tournoire unarmed before 
 me, with but one of his men at hand, I will give you 
 your life and freedom. But stay! At what time 
 am I to have the pleasure of meeting him ? " 
 
 "When we hear the stroke of eight from the 
 tower of the church in Clochonne. The wind this 
 evening is from that direction. It is agreed, then?" 
 
 " Agreed ! " said De Berquin. " Jacques, give me 
 your dagger. Now, Master Lackey, lead the way. 
 Follow, you rascals, and be ready to knock down 
 any person to whom I shall direct your attention." 
 
 And I turned and led the way to the road, fol 
 lowed closely by De Berquin, who held his sword 
 in one hand and the dagger in the other. I heard 
 the others fall in line, and tramp their way through 
 the brush behind him. Barbemouche must have 
 been exceedingly surprised at his leader's proceed 
 ings, for the conversation between De Berquin and 
 myself had been conducted in a tone too low for 
 their ears. 
 
 When we reached the road, De Berquin ordered a 
 halt. He then commanded Barbemouche to walk at 
 my left side, and Francois to walk at my right. 
 De Berquin retained his place behind me, and the 
 other two rascals followed him. In this order we 
 proceeded towards the inn.
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE 1 HIS WORD. 283 
 
 My object in leading my enemies to the inn was 
 to set them drinking. As long as the possibility 
 of taking La Tournoire was before De Berquin, 
 there was little likelihood that he would seek to 
 molest Mile, de Varion. In the first place, he 
 could not take her from the vicinity while he 
 himself remained there awaiting the coming of La 
 Tournoire. Secondly, he would not court any vio 
 lence during the time of waiting, lest he might 
 thereby risk his chance of taking La Tournoire. 
 But it was necessary that I should prevent his en 
 countering Blaise or Hugo, for either one, on seeing 
 me conducted by him as I was, might make some 
 demonstration that would cause De Berquin to kill 
 me immediately. I must contrive to keep my 
 enemies from entering the inn, and yet to have them 
 plied with drink. Therefore, I said, as we marched : 
 
 " Monsieur, we are approaching a kind of inn 
 where there are to be obtained the food and drink 
 that I promised. But in the house are some who 
 are devoted to the Sieur de la Tournoire. They are 
 not any of his soldiers, nor such as are to be feared 
 in a fight. But if they saw you and your men, with 
 me as a prisoner, they would certainly convey word 
 to La Tournoire or his band, and so it would be 
 impossible for me to fulfil my agreement. It is 
 true that you would then kill me, but you would 
 lose La Tournoire, and have his followers soon on
 
 284 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 your heels. So it is best that we stop at some 
 distance from the inn. You and I can steal up to 
 a spot where I can quietly summon the hostess. 
 She will do anything I ask. She will, at my order, 
 secretly bring food and wine to the place of waiting, 
 and will not betray our presence to those in the 
 inn." 
 
 "It seems a good idea," said De Berquin ; "but if 
 you attempt to make a fool of me 
 
 " You will, of course, instantly make a corpse of 
 me, for you will be at my side, and will hear every 
 word that I speak to the hostess." 
 
 "Very well," he replied. 
 
 Having at last reached a little clearing by the 
 roadside quite near the inn, but hidden from it by 
 trees, I gave the word to stop. De Berquin ordered 
 his men to remain here, sheathed his sword, clutched 
 me by the arm, and walked forward with me, his 
 dagger held ready to be plunged into my heart at 
 the slightest cause. 
 
 I led him to the back of the inn, and we stood 
 near the door of the kitchen, listening. 
 
 The gypsy was still playing, and every now and 
 then there came an exclamation of approval from 
 Blaise. I peered through a corner of the window. 
 The clutch of De Berquin on my arm tightened as I 
 did so. I saw the gypsy man playing, Blaise and 
 Hugo sitting with wine mugs before them, old
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 285 
 
 Godeau by the fire asleep, the gypsy girl with her 
 head on the table, she also asleep, and Marianne 
 removing platters from the table. Jeannotte had 
 doubtless gone up the ladder to her mistress. 
 
 Presently Marianne came out with some bones of 
 a fowl, to throw them away. 
 
 " Marianne," I called, softly. " Not a word ! Come 
 here and listen." 
 
 With some astonishment she obeyed. De Berquin 
 now held his drawn dagger under his cloak, and his 
 clutch on my arm, though tight, might yet appear to 
 her that of a friend. 
 
 "Marianne," said I, "it is very important that no 
 one within no one, remember shall know that 
 this gentleman is with me. I have a serious matter 
 to talk over with him at the clearing yonder, where 
 four of his people now wait. No one is to know of 
 their presence any more than of his. Bring plenty 
 of wine to us there with what food you can get 
 without exciting the curiosity of those inside. Do 
 you understand ? But not a word, even to me now." 
 
 She nodded her head, and went back into the 
 kitchen. I knew that I could rely on her. " Come, 
 monsieur," I whispered to De Berquin, and we went 
 silently back to the clearing. 
 
 The four rascals were seated on the ground, con 
 versing in low tones. De Berquin and I sat down in 
 the midst of the group. The fellows went on talk-
 
 286 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 ing, regardless of the presence of their leader, who 
 gave no heed to their babble, except occasionally 
 by a gesture to caution Barbemouche to lessen his 
 volume of voice. 
 
 " I never knew an enterprise to run smoothly 
 which had anything to do with women," Barbe 
 mouche was saying. " Where men only are con 
 cerned, one knows exactly what to do, and makes 
 no mistakes." 
 
 "You have a prejudice against the sex," put in 
 the foppish fellow. 
 
 " Par dieu ! I ought not to have ! " answered Barbe 
 mouche. " I owe them too much for the many 
 favors I've had from them. But they are mystify 
 ing creatures. To mistake a maid for her mistress 
 is nothing remarkable. For that matter, I've known 
 
 women of the lower orders who had more airs than 
 
 / 
 great ladies. I remember once, after having just 
 
 made an easy conquest of a countess, and become 
 ennuied with her, I turned my attention to the 
 daughter of a pastry-cook in Paris. She dug deep 
 holes in my face for merely trying to kiss her. She 
 had velvet lips, that girl, but what claws ! " 
 
 The gaunt rascal, whom they called Francois, 
 heaved a pensive sigh, as if this reminiscence awak 
 ened touching memories in him. 
 
 "And yet, to show the perversity of the sex," 
 continued Barbemouche, "that same day I saw an-
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 287 
 
 other man kiss her, and she gave him back two 
 kisses for his one." 
 
 " Perhaps he was a handsome man," said the fat 
 fellow, sagely. 
 
 "Yes," replied Barbemouche, ingenuously, "but 
 no handsomer than I." 
 
 "At that time you were probably handsomer even 
 than you are now," dryly observed the gaunt man. 
 
 "You are right," said Barbemouche, "for I was 
 young, and I did not have this scar," and he thrust 
 back the rim of his hat and laid his hand on his 
 forehead. 
 
 " In what fight with the watch did you get that ? " 
 inquired Frangois. 
 
 " I got it as the Duke of Guise got his, fighting 
 the enemies of the church, though not in the same 
 battle. I received mine that St. Bartholomew's 
 night when we made the streets of Paris flow with 
 heretic blood. A cursed Huguenot gave it me, but 
 I gave him another to match mine, and left him for 
 the crowd to trample over." 
 
 I gave a start, recalling the incident of which 
 I had so recently heard the account, and which 
 seemed the counterpart of this. 
 
 At this moment, Marianne appeared at the bend 
 of the road. She carried a huge wooden platter, on 
 which were a bowl of mulled wine, some mugs, and 
 some cheese, bread, and scraps of cold meat. I
 
 288 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 afterward learned that she had begun to prepare 
 this wine some time before, thinking that I and 
 Blaise and the boys would want it after my return 
 from my search for Pierre. Knowing Blaise' s capac 
 ity, she had made ready so great a quantity. 
 
 Saying "not a word, she set down the platter on the 
 ground before me. 
 
 "That is well," I said. " Now go back to the inn 
 and step often to the door, so that I can easily sum 
 mon you again without attracting the attention of the 
 others. And get more wine ready." 
 
 The woman nodded, and went back to the inn. 
 
 The four ruffians made an immediate onslaught on 
 the platter. De Berquin and Frangois ignored the 
 food, that they might the sooner dip their mugs into 
 the bowl of wine. The other three speedily disposed 
 of all the eatables, and then joined in the drinking. 
 De Berquin, in order to grasp his mug, had let my 
 arm go, but he retained his dagger in his other hand, 
 and each of his followers used but one hand in eating 
 or drinking, holding a weapon in the other. 
 
 " Look you, rascals ! " said De Berquin to his men, 
 presently. "Be careful to keep your wits about 
 you ! " 
 
 " Rascals ! " repeated the tall fellow, his pride 
 awakened by his second mug of wine. " By the 
 bones of my ancestors, it goes against me to be 
 so often called rascal ! "
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 289 
 
 Barbemouche saw an opportunity to retaliate for 
 the fun that had been made of his pretensions to 
 beauty. "They whom the term fits," he growled, 
 "ought not to complain, if I endure it, who am a 
 gentleman ! " 
 
 Instantly the bearded giant was on his feet, with 
 his huge sword poised in the air. 
 
 " Rascal yourself twice over, and no gentleman ! " 
 he cried, quivering with noble wrath. 
 
 " What, you lank scarecrow ! " said Barbe 
 mouche, rising in his turn, and rushing to meet 
 
 the other. 
 
 
 
 Their fat comrade now rose and thrust his sword 
 between the two, for the purpose of striking up their 
 weapons. The fop ran behind a tree, to be safe from 
 the fracas. 
 
 At the instant when Frangois was about to bring 
 his great sword down on Barbemouche, and the latter 
 was about to puncture him somewhere near the 
 ribs, there came the sound of the Angelus, borne 
 on the breeze from Clochonne. The two antagonists 
 stood as if transformed into statues, their weapons in 
 their respective positions of offence. Each in his 
 way moved his lips in his accustomed prayer until 
 the sound of the distant bell ceased. 
 
 " Now, then, for your dirty blood ! " roared Barbe 
 mouche, instantly resuming animation. 
 
 But his fat comrade knocked aside Barbemouche's
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 sword, and at the same time pushed Frangols out of 
 striking distanc*. 
 
 "Gentlemen, gentlemen," cried the fat rascal, 
 reproachfully, "would you spoil this affair and 
 rob me of my share of the pay ? God knows we 
 are all gentlemen, and rascals, too ! " 
 
 "Very well," said Barbemouche, relieved by his 
 brief explosion of wrath, "this matter can wait." 
 
 " I can wait as well as another man," said Fran- 
 gois, with dignity, whereupon both men resumed 
 their seats on the turf and their attentions to the 
 wine. The prudent Jacques returned to the circle, 
 and De Berquin, who during the squabble had em 
 ployed himself entirely in holding me from any 
 attempt at escape, looked relieved. 
 
 The effect of the wine on him was to make him 
 merry, so that he soon invited me to join in the 
 drinking, and I made a pretense of doing so. When 
 the bowl was empty, he went with me again to 
 summon Marianne, which we easily did, as she was 
 standing at the door awaiting my reappearance. 
 She brought us another pot of wine, and left us as 
 she had before done. De Berquin became more 
 and more gaily disposed. He put no limit to the 
 quantity imbibed by his men ; yet he kept his eyes 
 on me, and his dagger dangerously near my breast. 
 
 When we heard the clock in Clochonne strike 
 seven, he said to his men :
 
 HO W THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 2QI 
 
 " Straighten up, you dogs ! In another hour we 
 shall have work to do." Turning to me, he added, 
 with a grin, " Either to chain that wild beast, La 
 Tournoire, or to send the most entertaining of valets 
 to find out whether all that they say of purgatory 
 and hell is .true." 
 
 But he soon became so lax under the influence of 
 the wine that he did not heed when the fat man and 
 
 
 
 the ragged dandy dropped off to sleep and mingled 
 their snores with the murmurs of the forest insects. 
 He began to narrate his adventures, amatory, mili 
 tary, bibulous, and other. Presently, for a jest, he 
 drank the health of Henri of Navarre in return for 
 my drinking that of the Pope. 
 
 By this time Barbemouche and gaunt Frangois 
 had added their breathings to the somnolent choir. 
 
 " You are a mighty drinker, monsieur," I said to 
 De Berquin, admiringly, at the same time refilling 
 my own mug. 
 
 " Ask of the cabaret keepers of Paris whether the 
 Vicomte de Berquin can hold his share of the good 
 red vine-juice!" he replied, jubilantly, dipping his 
 mug again into the pot. 
 
 I took a gulp from my mug and pretended to 
 choke. In one of my convulsive movements, I 
 threw the contents of my mug into the eyes of 
 De Berquin. I followed it an instant later with 
 the mug itself, and he fell back on the grass, half-
 
 292 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 stunned. In the moment when his grasp of my 
 arm was relaxed, I slipped away from him, narrowly 
 missing the wild dagger stroke that he made at me. 
 A second later and I was on my feet. My first act 
 was to possess the weapons of Barbemouche and 
 Francois, these two being nearest me. I then ran 
 towards the inn, calling at the top of my voice, 
 " Blaise ! To arms ! " 
 
 Behind me I heard De Berquin, who had risen, 
 kicking the prostrate bodies of his men and cry 
 ing: 
 
 " Up, you drunken dogs ! We have been fooled ! 
 After him ! " 
 
 Then I heard him running after me on the road, 
 swearing terribly. 
 
 From the place where he had left his men, I could 
 hear them confusedly swearing and questioning one 
 another, all having been rudely awakened from sleep, 
 two of them being unable to find their weapons, and 
 none knowing rightly what had occurred or exactly 
 where their leader had gone. 
 
 Blaise came running out of the inn, with sword 
 drawn. When he had joined me, I stopped and 
 turned to face De Berquin. He was before me ere 
 I had time to explain to Blaise. In his rage, he 
 made a violent thrust at me, which Blaise turned 
 aside. De Berquin then leaped back, to put him 
 self on guard.
 
 "'I PROMISED YOU LA TOURNOIRE UNARMED. BEHOLD 
 HIM!'"
 
 HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD. 293 
 
 At that instant, the first stroke of eight came from 
 the distant tower of Clochonne. 
 
 "Filthy cur, you have lied to me!" cried De 
 Berquin. 
 
 "Nay, monsieur,",! answered, throwing from me 
 the weapons of Barbemouche and Frangois, " I keep 
 my word. I promised you La Tournoire unarmed. 
 Behold him!" 
 
 And I stepped out from beside Blaise and stood 
 with open arms. 
 
 " La Tournoire ! " repeated De Berquin, taking a 
 backward step and staring at me with open mouth. 
 
 " La Tournoire ! " came in a faint, horror-stricken 
 voice from behind me. 
 
 I turned and beheld mademoiselle, who had come 
 out from the inn on hearing my call for Blaise. 
 With her were Hugo and Jeannotte. Behind were 
 the inn-keepers and the gypsies. On mademoiselle's 
 face, which was lighted by a torch that Hugo carried, 
 was a death-like pallor, and such a look of horror, 
 grief, and self-reproach, as I have never seen on any 
 other human countenance. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " I cried, hastening to her side. 
 "What is the matter ? " 
 
 "'Tis but surprise, M. de la Tournoire!" 
 she answered, weakly, raising her hand feebly as if 
 to keep me from approaching her, while her eyes, 
 which were fixed on mine as by a terrible fascina-
 
 294 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 tion, seemed to be starting from her head. An in 
 stant later, she fell in a swoon, and I was just in 
 time to save her from striking the ground and to 
 pillow her head on my arm. 
 
 As for De Berquin, he had made a rush at me, 
 but Blaise had repulsed him with such fury that, 
 seeing no hope of being joined by his men, he soon 
 turned and fled. 
 
 I bore the senseless body of mademoiselle into the 
 inn, vainly asking myself why she had shown so 
 profound a distress at my disclosure.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 
 
 PRESENTLY mademoiselle recovered from her faint- 
 ness and went up to her chamber, supported by 
 Jeannotte. Her eyes met mine as she was about to 
 go, but she immediately dropped them, and seemed 
 by an effort to repress some kind of emotion. 
 
 With a heart saddened by the sight of mademoi 
 selle's distress, I then made arrangements for the 
 night. I was to lie at the front door of the inn, 
 Blaise at the rear door, Hugo and the gypsies in 
 the horse sheds, Marianne in the chamber with 
 mademoiselle and Jeannotte, old Godeau where he 
 chose. It happened that he chose a place before 
 the smouldering fire in the kitchen. 
 
 Any further attempt to find Pierre that night 
 was out of the question. I dared not leave the inn 
 again, lest I should expose mademoiselle to possible 
 molestation, or myself to an encounter with those 
 from whom I had just escaped. Had mademoiselle's 
 safety not depended on that of myself and Blaise, I 
 might have invited such an encounter for myself or 
 
 295
 
 296 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 for him or for both, but I would not have her under 
 go the slightest risk of losing her protectors. 
 
 I had little apprehension of seeing De Berquin or 
 his men again that night. Not that he would prob 
 ably remember his promise to give me my life and 
 liberty in return for my bringing La Tournoire before 
 him. Even that promise, if still respected by him, did 
 not affect him in regard to mademoiselle. But he 
 would consider that, though I was not accompanied 
 by any of my own men except Blaise, mademoiselle's 
 boy, Hugo, would wield a stout arm on our side. 
 Unless he knew something of Pierre's disappear 
 ance, he would count that active youth also with our 
 forces. He had doubtless taken in at a glance the 
 group composed of Godeau, the gypsies, and Mari 
 anne ; and he would suppose that I could reckon on 
 assistance of one kind or another from some or all 
 of these. Thus, having no odds in his favor, and 
 knowing that we would be on the alert, he would 
 be little likely to make any kind of demonstration 
 against us. Moreover, two of his men finding them 
 selves without their weapons, and all of them angry 
 at the manner of their awakening, they would prob 
 ably receive very badly the curses that he would 
 heap on them for their failure to come up to his 
 support. Their attitude would, for the rest of that 
 night, be one of mutiny. It was likely that he would 
 retreat and meditate a new plan. He would not feel
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY, 297 
 
 safe in the immediate vicinity of the inn, for it would' 
 occur to him that I might send one of my allies to 
 my men with orders to take him. So he would with 
 draw and either give up the enterprise entirely or 
 form a new design. 
 
 Now that he knew that I was La Tournoire, what 
 would he do ? Abandon his mission, since my knowl 
 edge of him would put me on my guard against him, 
 and forbid his winning my confidence and betraying 
 me in the way which, I supposed, Montignac had dic 
 tated to him ? It was not likely that such a man, hav 
 ing found only one road by which he might regain the 
 good things he had lost, would be turned aside from 
 that road. He would follow it to success or death. 
 Such men are too indolent to go about seeking op 
 portunities. Having found one, they will pursue it 
 wherever it may lead. Their fortunes are so desper 
 ate that they have only their lives to lose, and they 
 are so brave that they do not fear death. If they 
 can gain the stakes, so much the better. If not, 
 little the worse. Meanwhile, they are occupied in a 
 way congenial to a man who loves adventure, who 
 has inherited the taste for danger, and finds a pleas 
 urable excitement in risking his life. Therefore I 
 felt that De Berquin was not yet through with me, 
 but he would have to change his plan, and, until he 
 should have time to compose new measures, he would 
 not trouble us.
 
 298 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 As I lay in the silence, my thoughts turned from 
 De Berquin to Mile, de Varion. Her demonstration 
 on learning that I was La Tournoire was in harmony 
 with the manner in which she had previously ques 
 tioned me concerning my friendship for the bearer of 
 that name. Grieved at the thought that I was his 
 friend, relieved at my assertion that I did not so 
 highly esteem him, she had shown the utmost horror 
 on learning that I was the man himself. Could this 
 be due entirely to the impression conveyed by a name 
 to which the Catholics in Berry had attached so much 
 dread ? It was natural that one should regard with 
 some terror a man whose deeds had been so exag 
 gerated by vulgar report ; but this fact did not ex 
 plain the intensity of mademoiselle's emotion at the 
 moment of my disclosure. Yet she had attributed 
 that emotion entirely to surprise. Perhaps the ex 
 traordinary manifestation of that surprise was due to 
 her fatigued and dejected condition. Or it might be, 
 and I felt a delicious thrill at the thought, that it 
 was her concern for me, her fear that my life might 
 be the more imperilled by my relations with this pro 
 scribed man, that had caused the distress accompany 
 ing her first inquiries. If this was true, the discovery 
 that I was no other than the man proscribed, and all 
 the more in danger, would naturally have profoundly 
 affected her. 
 
 In the morning she came down from her loft, pale
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 299 
 
 and showing a calmness that seemed forced. To my 
 greeting and my announcement that Pierre had not 
 returned, she replied, quietly : 
 
 " He is a faithful and honest boy, and I have 
 prayed that no harm might befall him. His dis 
 appearance must not be allowed to alter your plans, 
 M. de la Tournoire." 
 
 " I shall leave orders with Marianne and Godeau 
 to conduct him to Maury, should he return to this 
 place, as he very probably will. If you do not wish 
 otherwise, we shall ride on to Maury this morning." 
 
 " I do not wish otherwise," she replied. After 
 a moment's pause, she added, " Alas, monsieur, 
 your friend, M. de Launay, when he promised me 
 your guidance across the border, engaged you to a 
 more tedious task than you might have wished to 
 undertake. I fear that I must ask for a delay at 
 Maury. You see what trouble your friend has 
 brought you into, waiting until a poor woman, 
 who has been overcome by fatigue, recovers her 
 energies." 
 
 "Ah, mademoiselle," I said, with delight, "you 
 will then hold me to the promise made for me by 
 my friend ? " 
 
 " What else can a helpless woman do ? " she asked, 
 with a pretty smile, although there was a tremor in 
 the voice. 
 
 I was overjoyed to be assured that she had ac-
 
 300 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 cepted the situation. I had promised that, on her 
 becoming acquainted with La Tournoire, she should 
 have no other protector. This had meant to her, at 
 the time when it was spoken, that I should go from 
 her. To me it had meant, of course, that I should 
 continue with her. I had feared that, on learning 
 the truth, she would banish me. She had said that 
 we must part. But now, despite the fact that the 
 same barrier existed between me and her, whether I 
 was La Tournoire or De Launay, despite her horror 
 on learning that I was the former, she had abandoned 
 her intention of parting from me. What had caused 
 this change of mind ? Had she, now that I was 
 known to her as La Tournoire, ceased to entertain 
 for me those feelings which she had, on account of 
 our difference in religion, sought by an immediate 
 separation to destroy ? This was unlikely. La Tour 
 noire or De Launay, I was the same man. I chose 
 a happier explanation, none other than that, con 
 sidering by night, she had come to the conclusion 
 that a religious difference was not too great a bar 
 rier to be removed, and that La Tournoire was not 
 a person to be regarded with any horror. Though 
 modesty might plead against her continuing in the 
 company of a man with whom she exchanged such 
 feelings as had so rapidly grown up between us, yet 
 circumstance, most imperative of all dictators, showed 
 her no other course than to remain under my guid-
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 3OI 
 
 ance and protection. So I accounted for the decision 
 which was to keep us together for a few more days. 
 
 I was not sorry that she had asked for a delay at 
 Maury. It relieved me of the necessity of making 
 a pretext for retarding her flight while I should 
 attempt the rescue of her father. The reason to be 
 given for the absence of myself and a party of my 
 men need not be a strong one when there was no 
 apparent haste to continue the flight. I was still 
 determined to keep the attempt in her father's behalf 
 a secret from her if it should fail, and as a surprise 
 for her if successful. 
 
 Inwardly jubilant with the hope inspired by her 
 change of mind, I hastened to give the innocent 
 reasons for the concealment of my identity from her. 
 She listened with a changeless smile, keeping her 
 eyes on mine. Before she could answer, Marianne 
 announced that breakfast was ready. No further 
 allusion was made to the matter, nor to her now 
 abandoned determination that we should part. 
 
 After breakfast, our party of five mounted our 
 horses, and, led by Blaise, forced our way through 
 the high bushes that marked the beginning of the 
 hardly perceptible road to Maury. The two gypsies 
 followed afoot, for, knowing that I could rely on their 
 fidelity and secrecy, I had bade them come, that 
 their music and tricks might amuse mademoiselle 
 during her stay at Maury.
 
 302 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning, and I considered that 
 I had many reasons for joy. Mademoiselle, too, 
 seemed affected by the sweetness and jocundity of 
 the early day. She had evidently nerved herself, 
 too, against her griefs. She seemed to have sum 
 moned a large stock of resolution to the task of facing 
 her troubles without a tear. It appeared that she 
 had banished dejection by an effort of the will. All 
 the time it was evident that her manner was the 
 result of a vigilant determination. I was, neverthe 
 less, glad to see a smile, a steadiness of look, a set 
 lip, though they were attained with premeditation. 
 There was in her conversation, as we rode on our 
 slow and difficult way, something of the woman of 
 the world. As we had to go in single file, and so to 
 speak loudly in order to be heard by one another, 
 our talk could not take on the themes and tones of 
 tenderness that I would have gladly given to it. 
 
 Presently from a bush at the side of the path a 
 man sprang up, saluted, and stood respectfully while 
 we passed him. It was one of my men, Maugert, on 
 duty as sentry, for I kept men watching every ap 
 proach to our hiding-place night and day. They lay 
 secreted among the brushwood, and would observe 
 an intruder long before the intruder could be aware 
 of their presence. A few minutes later we passed 
 another of these faithful sentinels, who rose out of 
 his concealment to give me a look of welcome, and
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 303 
 
 soon afterward we rode through the ruined gate 
 into the old courtyard itself. 
 
 "Welcome to Maury ! " said I to mademoiselle. 
 
 She looked up at the broken facade of the chateau, 
 around at the trees that environed the walls and in 
 some places pushed their branches through openings, 
 then at some of my men, who had been mending 
 their clothes or tinkering at their weapons. 
 
 " I shall feel safe at Maury, monsieur," she said, 
 quietly. 
 
 Thus Mlie. de Varion became my guest in that 
 wilderness fastness. I gave her the two chambers 
 in best preservation, one of them being immediately 
 over the chief entrance and overlooking the courtyard. 
 My own abode was in the northern turret, looking 
 down the steep wooded declivity that fell to the 
 road from Clochonne to Narjec. Hugo was to sleep 
 outside her door. My own men made their beds in 
 the great hall and in certain sheltered portions of the 
 wings and outbuildings.' They usually ate in this 
 hall, receiving their food on platters from the cook 
 (happily the kitchen had remained fit for use), and 
 bearing it thither. It was arranged that Hugo 
 should carry the meals of mademoiselle and Jean- 
 notte to mademoiselle's apartments. 
 
 It was more after our arrival than during our ride 
 to Maury that mademoiselle showed the fatigue of 
 which she had spoken. It was evident that she had
 
 304 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 reached a resting-place none too soon. Weakness 
 was manifest in all her movements as well as in the 
 pallor of her cheeks. Yet, though she languished 
 thus, she did not keep all the time to her chamber. 
 Each morning she came down to walk about the 
 courtyard, saying that the air and sunshine as 
 much as found its way through the overspreading 
 branches of the trees strengthened her. There 
 was in one corner of the yard an old stone bench, 
 which, in good weather, was for a great part of the 
 afternoon half in sun and half in shade. Here she 
 would sit by the hour, changing her position as sun 
 light or shade became preferable for the moment. 
 
 Morning or afternoon, I was never far from her. 
 For I had had to defer from day to day the first 
 steps towards the projected deliverance of M. de 
 Varion. On our arrival I had found that some of the 
 men on whose aid I would most depend were away 
 on a foraging expedition. Each hour I looked for 
 their return, but in vain. Their absence had now 
 become so prolonged as to be a cause of alarm. My 
 anxiety about them, and my concern over other 
 matters, took up so much of my mind that little 
 was left in which to devise a plan for the rescue 
 of the prisoner, and I would not make the first move 
 until the whole design should be complete. 
 
 As days passed, and mademoiselle's missing boy, 
 Pierre, did not come, I ceased to hope that we
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 305 
 
 should ever see him again. Had he found his way 
 to the inn where he had left us, Marianne or Godeau 
 would have brought him to Maury immediately. It 
 was useless to speculate as to what might have 
 become of him. He might have perished in the 
 forest, or found his way to Clochonne, or fallen 
 in with De Berquin and suffered for having been 
 of our party. When his disappearance was men 
 tioned, Jeannotte would look at mademoiselle, and 
 mademoiselle would say : 
 
 " Poor boy ! I pray that no" evil may have befallen 
 him. He was fidelity itself. He would die for 
 me! " 
 
 But she did not give herself up to poignant sor 
 row on his account, or, indeed, since the night at 
 Godeau' s inn, on account of anything. She seemed 
 to have set herself to bear her troubles in Spartan 
 manner, and to find in herself, perhaps with surprise, 
 the strength to do so. 
 
 So the days passed, and still my plans in regard to 
 her father remained unformed, the men on whom I 
 relied did not appear, and mademoiselle did not 
 speak of resuming her flight southward. There 
 came no further sign of the existence of De Ber 
 quin. From or of the outside world we heard 
 nothing, save occasionally, when the wind was in" 
 the right direction, the faint sound of the bell of 
 Clochonne. We seemed to dwell apart, in a region
 
 306 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 of our own, an enchanted forest which none other 
 might enter, a place where we were forever safe 
 from the strife of humanity, the touch of war, the 
 reach of the King's edicts, the power of provincial 
 governors, the vengeance of the great. The gypsies 
 remained with us, and sweetened the time with their 
 songs and the music of their instruments. My men 
 treated mademoiselle with the utmost respect. I 
 had caused them to know that she was a refugee, 
 a lady most precious in my esteem, one for whose 
 safety and happiness any other consideration must, 
 should occasion arise, be sacrificed. The weather 
 was dry, sunny, and, for the time of year, mild. 
 It was like a sweet dream, and I, for one, had 
 no premonition of the awakening that was to 
 come. 
 
 Often during that time I spoke of my love for 
 her. I told her that, to me, at least, religion was 
 not so much as to drive me from the woman whom 
 I had so long sought in vain among the beauties 
 of our Henri's court, whom I had so long wor 
 shipped in the ideal, whom I had instantly recog 
 nized as being the embodiment of that ideal, of 
 whose presence I could not endure to be deprived 
 even in thought. 
 
 She would sit looking in my eyes while I told her 
 these things. Sometimes she would seem to yield 
 to a kind of bliss in hearing them, to forget all else
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 307 
 
 than ourselves and my words. Then suddenly a 
 look of anguish would come on her features, she 
 would rise and press her hands to her eyes, as if to 
 blot out the memory of my look, and say : 
 
 " Monsieur, you must not ! You must not ! You 
 do not know ! Oh, if you knew ! " 
 
 And she would quickly glide away into the cha 
 teau, keeping her face turned from me until she had 
 disappeared. 
 
 I began to think that there might be another 
 obstacle than that of our difference in religion. 
 Perhaps a promise to another or some vow ! But 
 I swore to myself that, whatever the obstacle might 
 be, I would remove it. The only matter for present 
 disposition was to get her consent to my doing so. 
 
 She would soon return, composed and smiling, 
 with no sign of wishing to elude me. For the life 
 of me, I could not long refrain from the subject that 
 had before so strangely put her to flight. 
 
 Sometimes when I talked in the strain of love, 
 joy and pain would succeed each other on her face, 
 sometimes they would seem to be present at the 
 same moment. From the look of complete abandon 
 ment to happiness that sometimes, though never for 
 long, shone on her features, I felt that she loved me, 
 and that eventually her love would gain the victory. 
 I continually tried to elicit an expression of her feel 
 ings in words. Sweet to me as was the frequent
 
 308 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 confession of her looks, I sought a confession in 
 speech also. 
 
 One afternoon, as we stood on a little spur that 
 rose from the declivity below the chateau, and 
 whence through a small opening between trees 
 could be seen the river, the smiling plain, and afar 
 the high-perched chateau of Clochonne, I asked her : 
 
 " Why is it that when I speak of what most occu 
 pies my heart you become silent or sorrowful, or go 
 suddenly from me ? " 
 
 With assumed lightness she replied : 
 
 " Can a woman explain her capricious doings any 
 more than a man can understand them ? It is well 
 known that we do unaccountable things." 
 
 Not heeding this evasion, I went on : 
 
 " I sometimes fear that you imagine some other 
 barrier between us than the one of religion. Is it 
 that some other gentleman ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, monsieur ! " she answered, quickly and 
 earnestly, before I had time to finish the question. 
 
 "Is there, then, some vow or girlish resolution?" 
 
 She shook her head negatively in reply, but would 
 not give me any more satisfaction. 
 
 At last I said, abruptly, " Do you, then, wish me 
 not to love you ? " 
 
 She looked at me first as if she would answer yes, 
 and then as if she would answer no, and finally, after 
 a sigh, she said :
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 309 
 
 " Can we cause things by wishing ? " 
 
 Finally, as a last means of trying her, I said : 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I have been thinking that it might 
 be better if I were to go on alone to Guienne, and 
 leave Blaise and my men to conduct you when you 
 are able to follow." 
 
 She regarded me strangely, first as if the sugges 
 tion were a welcome one, then, while her brow 
 darkened, and a kind of mental anguish forced itself 
 into her expression, as if the plan were not at all 
 acceptable. 
 
 " But you will not do that, monsieur ? " was all that 
 she said. 
 
 I could but sigh in puzzlement, and abandon my 
 attempt to make her tell her feelings. 
 
 Sometimes I would suddenly turn my eyes towards 
 her, and catch her looking at me with mingled ten 
 derness and pity, as a man condemned to die might 
 be looked on by the woman who loved him. At 
 those times I thought that she had some fear or 
 foreboding that I might yet fall a victim to the 
 vengeance of those whom I had offended. Some 
 times her look quite startled me, for it contained, 
 besides a world of grief and pity, something of self- 
 reproach. I then supposed that she blamed herself 
 for allowing her fatigue to delay me in my departure 
 from the province. 
 
 But these demonstrations did not often escape her.
 
 3IO AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 She oftenest showed the forced cheerfulness that 
 I have already mentioned. The moments when any 
 kind of distress showed itself were exceptional, and 
 many of them were caused by the persistence with 
 which I sought a response in words to my declara 
 tions of love. 
 
 There came at last the afternoon how well 
 I remember it ! when we sat together on the 
 stone bench in the sunlit part of the old court 
 yard. Through the interstices of the overspreading 
 branches we could see a perfectly clear blue sky. 
 The slightest movement of air made the leaves 
 rustle sleepily, dreamily. Save the chirping of the 
 birds, no other sound emanated from the forest. 
 The murmur of the river at the foot of the wooded 
 steep came up to us. In a corner of the yard the 
 two gypsies lay asleep. Some of my men were off 
 on various employments. A few had gone for game ; 
 others to fish. One of them, Frojac, was in Clo- 
 chonne disguised as a peasant, to keep a watch on 
 the garrison there. The party of foragers had not 
 returned. Of the men at the chateau, those who 
 were not on guard were with Blaise Tripault in the 
 great hall, where they had just finished eating and 
 drinking. Hugo had gone to the stables to feed 
 mademoiselle's horses. Jeannotte was asleep in her 
 chamber. Mademoiselle and I sat in silence, in the 
 midst of a solitude, a remote tranquillity, a dreamy
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 
 
 repose that it was difficult to imagine as ever to be 
 broken. 
 
 She seemed to yield to the benign influence of 
 this enchanted place. She leaned back restfully, 
 closed her eyes, and smiled. 
 
 Suddenly there came from within the chateau the 
 sound of my men singing. Their rude, strong voices 
 were low at first, but they rose in pitch and volume 
 as their song progressed. Mademoiselle ceased to 
 smile, opened her eyes, again took on the look of 
 dark foreboding. The song had an ominous ring. 
 It was one of the Huguenot war hymns sung in 
 the army of our Henri: 
 
 " With pricking of steel 
 
 Our foe we have sped, 
 We've peppered his heel 
 
 With pellets of lead, 
 
 And the battles we win are the gifts of the Lord, 
 Who pointeth our cannon and guideth our sword. 
 We fire and we charge and there's nothing can bar 
 When we fight in the track of the King of Navarre. 
 Then down, down, down with the Duke of Guise ! 
 Death, death, death to our enemies ! 
 And glory, we sing, to God and our King, 
 And death to the foes of Navarre ! " 
 
 The melody was grim and stirring. The men's 
 voices vibrated with war-like wrath. They were 
 impatient for battles, charges, the kind of fighting
 
 3 1 2 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 that is done between great armies on the open field, 
 when there is the roar and smoke of cannon, the 
 rattle of small firearms, the clash of steel, the cries 
 of captains, the shrieks and groans of wounded, the 
 plenteous spilling of blood. They were hungry for 
 carnage. 
 
 "There is no cause to shudder, mademoiselle," 
 said I, perceiving the effect that the song had on 
 her ; " we are far away from fighting. There is no 
 danger here." 
 
 "There may be dangers of which you do not 
 guess," she answered. 
 
 As if to verify her words, a sudden, sharp cry 
 broke the stillness. It came from the forest path 
 by which we had arrived at the chateau. It was 
 the voice of one of my sentinels challenging a new 
 comer. 
 
 "It is I," came the reply. "I have important 
 news for the captain." 
 
 "Oh, it is you, Marianne?" replied the man on 
 guard. " I didn't know you for an instant, you 
 appeared so suddenly, without any noise." 
 
 I hastened to the gate and called, " Come, Mari 
 anne, what is it?" 
 
 She came up puffing and perspiring. So breath 
 less was she that she had to sit down on a bench in 
 the courtyard before she could answer me. 
 
 "Oh, monsieur!" she said, when she had re-
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY, 
 
 covered some breath. " Look to yourself ! The 
 governor of the province is at Clochonne ! " 
 
 "The devil ! " I said, and turned to see the effect 
 of this news on mademoiselle. 
 
 She was standing, trembling, as white as death, 
 her one hand on the back of the bench for support. 
 
 "Be not alarmed, mademoiselle," I said, "Clo 
 chonne is not Maury ! They do not know our hid 
 ing-place. How did you learn, Marianne, and what 
 else do you know ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle stood perfectly still and fixed her 
 eyes on Marianne, awaiting the latter' s answers with 
 apparently as much interest as I myself felt. 
 
 "Godeau went to Clochonne this morning with 
 some eggs to sell, and learned that the governor 
 arrived last night and occupies the chateau," said 
 Marianne. 
 
 " With how many men ? " I asked. 
 
 "Godeau said that the courtyard of the chateau 
 and the market-place of the town were full of men-at- 
 arms, but he did not wait to find out how many there 
 were. He knew what he would catch from me if he 
 did not immediately bring me the news, that I 
 might let you know. So he came home at once, and 
 as soon as I had heard it I started for this place." 
 
 " I thank you, Marianne. You are the best of 
 women. Yet it may not be on our account that M. 
 de la Chatre honors Clochonne with a visit."
 
 314 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 It was, indeed, true that the governor would 
 naturally visit his border towns at a time when 
 war might be expected soon to enter his province. 
 Yet I could not help thinking that his coming at this 
 particular time had something to do with his plan to 
 capture me. I remembered what course Montignac 
 had advised him to take : to wait until his spy should 
 have located me and sent him word of my hiding- 
 place, then to come to Clochonne, whither the spy, 
 on learning of his presence, should send him the 
 information that would enable him to lay an ambus 
 cade for me. This was a good plan, for a premature 
 arrival of the governor at Clochonne might give me 
 time to flee before my whereabouts should be known 
 to the spy ; but, knowing my exact whereabouts, La 
 Chatre could first take measures for cutting off my 
 flight, and then risk nothing by coming to Clo 
 chonne. Moreover, should the spy fail as to the 
 ambush, the governor's acquaintance with my where 
 abouts would serve him in a chase that he might 
 make with his soldiers. The ambush was but a 
 device more likely to succeed than an open search 
 and attack. It was, if at all possible, easier, and 
 would cost the governor no lives. 
 
 Now, if the plan suggested by Montignac was 
 being carried out, the governor's arrival at Clo 
 chonne meant that his spy had sent him word of 
 my hiding-place. But could De Berquin have done
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 315 
 
 so ? He had previously shown some skill in secret 
 pursuit. Had he eluded the vigilance of my senti 
 nels, learned that we were at Maury, and sent one of 
 his men to the governor with the information ? It 
 was improbable, yet nothing occurs more often than 
 the improbable. So I asked Marianne : 
 
 " Have you seen anything of the five men who 
 drank with me the night you carried wine to us from 
 the inn?" 
 
 " Not since that night, monsieur." 
 
 " And you have no more news than you have told 
 me ? " 
 
 " Nothing more, monsieur ; so, if you please, I will 
 hurry back, for my old man is sure to have fallen 
 asleep, and it would be a pity if the governor's men 
 should come by the forest road without being seen. 
 Be sure, if they come after I reach home, you shall 
 know of it in good time." 
 
 I bade her go, and turned to mademoiselle. 
 
 She was as pale as a white lily. As soon as my 
 eye met hers, she said, in a faint voice : 
 
 " I am going in, monsieur. I am tired. No, I 
 can go alone. Do 'not be concerned about me. I 
 shall soon feel better." 
 
 And she went rapidly into the chateau, giving me 
 no time in which to assure her that there was no 
 reason for immediate alarm. 
 
 I wished to consider Marianne's news before com-
 
 316 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 municating it to any of my men. I had to inquire 
 of myself whether it called for any immediate action 
 on my part. So that my meditations might not be 
 interrupted, I left the chateau and walked into the 
 forest. 
 
 For hours I considered the possible relations of 
 the governor's arrival to mademoiselle's safety and 
 my own, to that of my men and our cause, and to 
 my intention of delivering M. de Varion from prison. 
 But I could arrive at no conclusion, for I knew 
 neither the governor's intentions, nor what informa 
 tion he had concerning me. There were so many 
 probabilities and so many possible combinations of 
 them, that at last I threw the whole matter from my 
 mind, determining to await events. On the way 
 back to the chateau I reproached myself for having 
 wasted so much time in making useless guesses, for 
 when I found myself at the gate it was night, and 
 the moon had risen. 
 
 I stopped at the entrance and stood still to listen 
 to the voice of Blaise, which rose in the courtyard in 
 the words of a psalm. He sang it with a gentleness 
 the very reverse of the feeling hte voice had expressed 
 in the war hymn a few hours earlier. From a sound 
 that came between the words now and then, I knew 
 that he was engaged in one of his favorite occupa 
 tions, that of polishing his weapons. 
 
 Pleased to hear him singing in the moonlight,
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 317 
 
 1 stood at the gate, lest by entering I might inter 
 rupt the psalm. 
 
 Presently, at the end of the stanza, I heard another 
 voice from the doorway of the chateau. 
 
 "Ah, Blaise," said Jeannotte, "it is the spirit of 
 your mother that controls you now." 
 
 He made no answer, nor did he resume his sing 
 ing. Then I recalled that for the past few days he 
 had not shown his former susceptibility to the maid's 
 charms ; he had, indeed, exhibited towards her a kind 
 of disapproving shyness. I had not attached any 
 importance to this. 
 
 " Why do you not go on singing your psalm ? " 
 Jeannotte asked, coming nearer to him. 
 
 His answer was a strange one. It was spoken 
 with a kind of contemptuous irony and searching 
 interrogation. The words were : 
 
 " Mademoiselle's boy Pierre has not yet come back 
 to us." 
 
 " What has that to do with your singing ? " said 
 Jeannotte. " We all know it very well. Poor Pierre ! 
 To think that he may have been taken by Monsieur 
 de Berquin ! " 
 
 " It is well that he did not know the place of our 
 destination when he went away," said Blaise, in the 
 same insignificant tone, "else M. de Berquin might 
 torture the secret out of him, and carry it to the 
 governor of the province, for M. de Berquin knows
 
 3l8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 now that my master is La Tournoire. It would 
 not be well for the boy, or any one else, to be 
 the means of the governor's learning La Tournoire's 
 hiding-place ! " 
 
 After which words, spoken with a kind of ominous 
 menace, Blaise abruptly left the girl, and strode 
 around the corner of the chateau. The maid stood 
 still a few moments, then went into .the chateau. 
 
 Completely mystified, I crossed the courtyard and 
 called Blaise. 
 
 " M. de la Chatre is at Clochonne," I said, abruptly, 
 as soon as he was before me. 
 
 He stood still, returning my gaze. Presently he 
 said : 
 
 "Do you think that he has learned where you 
 are ? " 
 
 " Through M. de Berquin ? " I said, as if complet 
 ing his question. 
 
 " Or any one else ? " he said, in a low voice. 
 "There was the boy who disappeared, for in 
 stance." 
 
 " But he did not know our hiding-place when he 
 left. He did not know how near we then were 
 to it. He did not then know that I was La 
 Tournoire." 
 
 " But there was much talk of La Tournoire on the 
 journey. Did you at any time drop any hint of this 
 place, and how it might be reached ? "
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. 
 
 " None that could have reached his ears. I told 
 only Mile, de Varion, and we were quite alone when 
 I did so." 
 
 Blaise looked at the ground in silence. After 
 some time he gave a heavy sigh, and, raising his 
 eyes, said : 
 
 " Monsieur, I have been thinking of many things 
 of late. Certain matters have had a strange appear 
 ance. But, well, perhaps my thoughts have been 
 absurd, and, in short, I have nothing to say about 
 them except this, monsieur, it is well to be on one's 
 guard always against every one ! " 
 
 I was about to ask him whether he meant that 
 the boy Pierre had been guilty of eavesdropping 
 and treachery, and to reprove him for that unworthy 
 suspicion, when there was a noise at the gate. 
 Looking thither, I saw two of my men, Sabray and 
 Roquelin, conducting into the courtyard three 
 starved-looking persons, who leaned wearily on one 
 another's shoulders, and seemed ready to drop with 
 fatigue. 
 
 "We found these wretches in the woods," ex 
 plained Sabray. "They are Catholics, although 
 that one tried to hide his cross and shouted, ' Down 
 with the mass ! ' when we told them to surrender 
 hi the name of the Sieur de la Tournoire." 
 
 "It is true that I was a Catholic," whined the 
 bedraggled fop who had belonged to De Berquin's
 
 32O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 band of four; "but I was just about to abjure when 
 these men came up." 
 
 " I will abjure twice over, if it pleases monsieur," 
 put in the tall Spanish-looking ruffian. " Nothing 
 would delight me more than to be a Huguenot. By 
 the windpipe of the Pope, for a flagon of wine I 
 would be a Jew ! " 
 
 "And I a damned infidel Turk," wearily added 
 their fat comrade, " for a roast fowl, and a place to 
 lay my miserable body ! " 
 
 At this moment the fop's eyes fell on Blaise. 
 
 "Saint Marie!" he cried, falling to his knees. 
 '.' We are dead men. It is the big fellow we trussed 
 up at the inn ! " 
 
 "Belly of Beelzebub, so it is!" bellowed Blaise, 
 pulling out his sword. Turning to Jeannotte, who 
 had just reappeared in the courtyard, he roared : 
 " It is now my father's spirit that controls me ! " 
 
 Whereupon he fell to belaboring the three poor, 
 weary, hungry, thirsty rascals with the flat of his 
 sword, till all of them yelled in concert. They were 
 too limp to resist or even to run, and he had his way 
 with them until Sabray and Roquelin howled with 
 laughter. At last I ordered him to stop, and to con 
 fine the men in a chamber, where they should be 
 fed and questioned. So they limped away moaning, 
 driven like cattle by Blaise, who promised them as 
 they went that they should not be put to the trouble
 
 AT THE CHATEAU OF MAURY. $21 
 
 of tying up honest people in the dark for some time 
 to come. Jeannotte followed, out of curiosity, as 
 did Sabray and Roquelin. 
 
 Left alone in the courtyard, I sat on the stone 
 bench, which was now in part yellow with moonlight, 
 and began to ponder. I could doubtless learn from 
 the three captives whether D.e Berquin had had any 
 hand in the coming of La Chatre to Clochonne. 
 Anxious as I was to inform myself, I was yet in no 
 mood to question the men at that moment, prefer 
 ring to wait and hear the result of Blaise's inter 
 rogations. 
 
 While I was thinking, my arms folded and my 
 eyes turned to the ground at my feet, I suddenly 
 heard a deep sigh very near me. 
 
 I looked up and saw Mademoiselle de Varion 
 standing before me in the moonlight. My gaze met 
 hers, and in the delicious glow that her presence 
 sent through me I forgot all in the world but her.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 
 
 " MADEMOISELLE ! " I whispered, starting up and 
 taking her hand. 
 
 She trembled slightly, and averted her look. But 
 she did not draw away her hand. 
 
 "You are still disturbed by Marianne's news," 
 I said. " But you have little more reason to fear 
 when M. de la Chatre is at Clochonne than if he 
 were at the other end of the province." 
 
 " Yet I do fear, monsieur," she said, in a low tone, 
 "for your sake." 
 
 "Then if you will fear," said I, "I take great 
 happiness in knowing that it is for me. But this is 
 no place or time for fear. Look and listen. The 
 moonlight, the sounds of the forest, the song of the 
 nightingale, all speak of peace." 
 
 "The song of the nightingale may give place to 
 the clash of swords and the cries of combat," she 
 replied. " And because you have delayed here with 
 me, you now risk the peril you are in." 
 
 " Peril is familiar company to me, mademoiselle," I 
 322
 
 HO IV DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 323 
 
 said, gaily. " It comes and it goes. It is a very wel 
 come guest when it brings with it the sweetest lady 
 in the world." 
 
 Talking thus, I led her around the side of the 
 chateau to the old garden appertaining to it, a place 
 now wild with all kinds of forest growth, its former 
 use indicated by a broken statue, a crumbling grotto, 
 and in its centre an old sun-dial overgrown with 
 creepers. The path to the sun-dial was again pas 
 sable, thanks to my frequent visits to the spot since 
 my first arrival at Maury. It was up this path that 
 we now went. 
 
 The moonlight and the presence of mademoiselle 
 made the place a very paradise to me. We two were 
 alone in the garden. The moon spread beauty over 
 the broken walls of the chateau on one side, and the 
 green vegetation around us leaving some places in 
 mysterious shade. The sun-dial was all in light, and 
 so was mademoiselle standing beside it. I breathed 
 sweet wild odors from the garden. From some part 
 of the chiteau came the soft twang of the strings 
 responding to the fingers of the gypsy. I held the 
 soft hand of mademoiselle. I raised it to my lips. 
 
 " I love you, I love you ! " I whispered. 
 
 She made no answer, only looked at me with a 
 kind of mingled grief and joy, bliss embittered by 
 despair. 
 
 "It cannot be," I went on, "that Heaven would
 
 324 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 permit so great a love to find no response. Will 
 you not answer me, mademoiselle?" 
 
 " What answer would you have ? " she asked, in a 
 perturbed voice. 
 
 " I would have love for love." 
 
 Her answer was arrested by the sound of the 
 gypsy's voice, which at that instant rose in an old 
 song, that one in which a woman's love is likened 
 to a light or a fire. These are the first words: 
 
 " Bright as the sun, more quick to fade ; 
 
 Fickle as marsh-lights prove ; 
 Where brightest, casting deepest shade 
 False flame of woman's love." 
 
 " Heed the song, monsieur," said mademoiselle, in 
 the tone of one who warns vaguely of a danger which 
 dare not be disclosed openly, 
 
 " It is an old, old song," I answered. " The raving 
 of some misanthrope of bygone time." 
 
 " It has truth in it," she said. 
 
 " Nay, he judged all women from some bitter ex 
 perience of his own. His song ought to have died 
 with him, ought to be shut up in the grave wherein 
 he lies, with his sins and his sorrows." 
 
 "Though the man is dead, the truth he sang is 
 not. Heed it, monsieur, as a warning from the 
 dead to the living, a warning to all brave men who 
 unwarily trust in women ! " 
 
 " I needed no song to warn me, mademoiselle," I
 
 " ' I WOULD HAVE LOVE FOR LOVE.'
 
 NOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 32$ 
 
 said, thinking of Mile. d'Arency and M. de Noyard. 
 " I have in my own time seen something of the 
 treachery of which some women are capable." 
 
 " You have loved other women ? " she said, quickly. 
 
 " Once I thought I loved one, until I learned what 
 she was." 
 
 " What was she ? " she asked, slowly, as if divining 
 the answer, and dreading to hear it. 
 
 " She was a tool of Catherine de Medici's," said I, 
 speaking with all the more contempt when I com 
 pared the guileful court beauty, Mile. d'Arency, with 
 the pure, sweet woman before me ; "one of those 
 creatures whom Catherine called her Flying Squad 
 ron, and she betrayed a very honest gentleman to his 
 death." 
 
 " Betrayed him ! " she repeated. 
 
 " Yes, by a pretended love tryst." 
 
 Mademoiselle trembled, and held out her hand to 
 the dial for support. 
 
 Something in her attitude, something in the pose 
 of her slender figure, something in her white face, 
 her deep, wide-open eyes, so appealed to my love, to 
 my impulse to protect her, that I clasped her in my 
 arms, and drew her close to me. She made no at 
 tempt to repulse me, and into her eyes came the 
 look of surrender and yielding. 
 
 " Ah, mademoiselle, Julie," I murmured, for she 
 had told me her name, " you do not shrink from me,
 
 326 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 your hand clings to mine, the look in your eyes tells 
 what your lips have refused to utter. The truth is 
 out, you love me ! " 
 
 She closed her eyes, and let me cover her face 
 with kisses. 
 
 Presently, still holding her hand in mine, I stepped 
 to the other side of the sun-dial, so that we stood 
 with it between us, our hands clasped over it. 
 
 "There needs no oath between us now," said I, 
 " yet here let us vow by the moonlight and the sun 
 light that mark the time on this old dial. I pledge 
 you here, on the symbol of time, to fidelity forever ! " 
 
 " False flame of woman's love ! " 
 
 came the song of the gypsy, before rriademoiselle 
 could answer. 
 
 The look of unresisting acquiescence faded from 
 her face. She started backward, drew her hand 
 quickly from mine, and with the words, " Oh, mon 
 sieur, monsieur ! " glided swiftly from the garden 
 and around the chateau. In perplexity, I followed. 
 When I reached the courtyard she was not there. 
 She had gone in, and to her chamber. 
 
 But I was happy. I felt that now she was mine. 
 Her face, her attitude, had spoken, if not her lips. 
 As for her breaking away, I thought that due to a 
 last recurrence of her old scruples concerning the 
 barrier between us. I did not attribute it to the
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 327 
 
 effect of the sudden intrusion of the gypsy's song. 
 It was by mere accident, I told myself, that her 
 scruples had returned at the moment of that intru 
 sion. What was there in her love that I need fear ? 
 She had told me to heed the song as a warning. I 
 considered this a mere device on her part to check 
 the current of my wooing. Her old scruples or her 
 maidenly impulses might cause her to use for that 
 purpose any device that might occur. But, how 
 long she might postpone the final confession of sur 
 render, it must come at last, for the surrender itself 
 was already made. Her heart was mine. What 
 mattered it now though the governor had come to 
 Clochonne solely in quest of me ? What though he 
 knew my hiding-place, discovered by the persistent 
 De Berquin, and its location by him communicated 
 through Barbemouche ? For, I said to myself, if 
 De Berquin had sent word to the governor, Barbe 
 mouche must have been the messenger, for the three 
 rascals now held at Maury could not have been relied 
 on, and they had the appearance of having wandered 
 in the forest several days. 
 
 I was just about to summon Blaise, that I might 
 learn the result of his interrogations, when I heard 
 the voice of Maugert, who was lying in watch by 
 the forest path, call out : 
 
 "Who goes there?" 
 
 " We are friends," came the answer, quickly.
 
 328 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 This voice also I knew, as well as Maugert's. It 
 was that of De Berquin. 
 
 I ran to the gate and heard him tell Maugert, who 
 covered him with an arquebus, match lighted, that 
 he was seeking the abode of the Sieur de la Tour- 
 noire, for whom he had important news. 
 
 " Let him come, Maugert ! " I called from the gate. 
 
 I stepped back into the courtyard. At that 
 moment Blaise came out of the chateau. Very 
 soon De Berquin strode in through the gateway, 
 followed by the burly Barbemouche. Both looked 
 wayworn and fatigued. 
 
 "Monsieur de la Tournoire," said De Berquin, 
 saluting me with fine grace and a pleasant air, he 
 never lost the ways of a gallant gentleman, "I 
 have come here to do you a service." 
 
 So ! thought I, does he really intend to seek my 
 confidence and try to betray me, after all ? Admir 
 able self-assurance ! 
 
 I was about to answer, when Barbemouche put in : 
 
 " So you, whom it was in my power to kill a hun 
 dred times over that night, are the very Tournoire 
 whom I chased from one end of France to the other 
 eight years ago ? " And he looked me over with a 
 frank curiosity. 
 
 " Yes," I said, with a smile, " after you had de 
 stroyed the home of my fathers. And at last you 
 have found me."
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 329 
 
 "I was but the servant of the Duke of Guise 
 then," said Barbemouche. 
 
 At this point Blaise, who, in all our experiences 
 with De Berquin and his henchmen, had not while 
 sober come within hearing of Barbemouche's voice, 
 or within close sight of him, stepped up and said, 
 coolly : 
 
 " Let me see the face that goes with that voice." 
 
 And he threw up the front of Barbemouche's hat 
 with one hand, at the same time raising the front of 
 his own with the other. The two men regarded 
 each other for a moment. 
 
 "Praise to the God of Israel, we meet again!" 
 cried Blaise, in a loud voice, catching the other by 
 the throat. 
 
 " Who are you ? " demanded Barbemouche. 
 
 "The man on whom you left this mark," 
 and Blaise pointed to his own forehead, " in 
 Paris on St. Bartholomew's night thirteen years 
 ago." 
 
 " Then I did not kill you ? " muttered Barbe 
 mouche, glaring fiercely at Blaise. 
 
 " God had further use for me," said Blaise. 
 
 De Berquin and I both stepped aside, perceiving 
 that here was a matter in which neither of us was 
 concerned. But we looked on with some interest, 
 deferring until its adjustment our own conversation. 
 
 " Then it was you who spoiled my appearance for
 
 330 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the rest of my days ! " cried Barbemouche. " May 
 you writhe in the flames of hell ! " 
 
 And, being without sword or other weapon, he 
 aimed a blow of the fist at Blaise's head. Blaise, 
 disdaining to usfe steel against an unarmed antago 
 nist, contented himself with dodging the blow and 
 dragging Barbemouche to a place where an opening 
 in the courtyard wall overlooked a steep, rocky 
 descent which was for some distance without vege 
 tation. Here the two men grappled. There was 
 some hard squeezing, some quick bending either 
 way, a final powerful forcing forward of the arms 
 on the part of Blaise, a last violent propulsion of 
 the same arms, and Barbemouche was thrown back 
 ward down the precipice. Blaise stood for a time 
 looking over. We heard a series of dull concussions, 
 a sound of the flight of detached small stones, and 
 then nothing. 
 
 " God giveth the battle to the strong ! " said 
 Blaise, and he came away from the precipice. 
 
 De Berquin shrugged his shoulders, and turned 
 again to me. 
 
 "As I said, monsieur," he began, "I have come 
 here to do you a service." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I, coldly, choosing to assume 
 indifference and ignorance. " I knew not that I 
 was in need of any." 
 
 "Your need of it is all the greater for that,"
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 331 
 
 said De Berquin, quietly. " Monsieur, I would hin 
 der some one from doing you a foul deed, though 
 to do so I must rob that person of your esteem." 
 
 " Speak clearly, M. de Berquin," said I, thinking 
 that he was taking the wrong way to get my con 
 fidence. " It is impossible that any one having my 
 esteem should need hindrance from a foul deed." 
 
 De Berquin stood perfectly still and looked me 
 straight in the face, saying : 
 
 " Is it a foul deed to betray a man into the hands 
 of his enemies ? " 
 
 "Yes," said I, thoughtfully, wondering that he 
 should try to begin that very act by accusing some 
 one else of intending it. 
 
 "Then, monsieur," he went on, "look to your 
 self." 
 
 But I looked at him instead, with some amaze 
 ment at the assurance with which he continued to 
 face me. 
 
 "And what man of my following would you 
 accuse of intending to betray me?" I asked. 
 
 " No man, monsieur," he said, still meeting my 
 gaze steadily, and not changing his attitude. 
 
 "No man?" I repeated, for a moment puzzled. 
 " Oh, ho ! The boy, Pierre, perhaps, who left us 
 while we were at the inn by the forest road ! Well, 
 monsieur, you speak falsely. I would stake my arm 
 on his loyalty."
 
 332 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "It is not to tell you of any boy that I have 
 sought you these many days in this wilderness," 
 said De Berquin, all the time standing as motion 
 less as a statue, and speaking in a very low voice. 
 " It is not a boy that has come, from M. de la Chatre, 
 the governor of the province, to betray you." 
 
 " Not man nor boy," I said, curious now to learn 
 what he was aiming at. " What, then ? Mademoi 
 selle's maid, honest Jeannotte ? You must take the 
 trouble to invent something else, M. de Berquin. 
 You become amusing." 
 
 " Not the maid, monsieur," he replied, very quietly, 
 putting a stress on the word " maid," and facing me 
 as boldly as ever. 
 
 Slowly it dawned on me what he meant. Slowly 
 a tremendous indignation grew in me against the 
 man who dared to stand before me and make that 
 accusation. Yet I controlled myself, and merely 
 answered in a tone as low as his, but slowly drawing 
 my sword : 
 
 "By God, you mean her!" 
 
 " Mile, de Varion," he answered, never quailing. 
 
 Filled with a great wrath, my powers of thought 
 for the time paralyzed, my mind capable of no per 
 ception, but that of mademoiselle's sweetness and 
 purity opposed to this horrible charge of black 
 treason, I could answer only : 
 
 "Then the devil is no more the king of liars,
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 333 
 
 unless you are the devil ! Come, Monsieur de Ber- 
 quin, I will show you what I think of the service 
 you would do me ! " 
 
 With drawn sword in hand, I walked across the 
 courtyard and pointed to the way leading around 
 the side of the chateau to an open space in one 
 part of the garden. I knew that there we should 
 not be interrupted. 
 
 As I waited for De Berquin to precede me, I 
 chanced to look at Blaise. A strange, thoughtful 
 expression was on his face. He, too, stood quite 
 still. 
 
 De Berquin looked at my face for a moment 
 longer, then seemed to realize the hopelessness 
 of his attempt to make me credit his accusation, 
 shrugged his shoulders and said, courteously : 
 
 " As you will, monsieur ! " 
 
 And he walked before me around the side of the 
 chateau to the bare space in the garden. Blaise, 
 having received no orders, did not presume to fol 
 low. 
 
 We took off our doublets and other encumbrances, 
 De Berquin raising his sheathed sword and very 
 gracefully unsheathing by throwing the scabbard off 
 into the air, so that it fell some distance away in 
 the garden. 
 
 Twice before that night it had been shown that 
 I was the more skilful swordsman, yet now he stood
 
 334 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 without the least sign of fear. If he had formerly 
 retreated, on being disarmed, it was from situations 
 in which he had figured ridiculously, and could not 
 endure to remain before Mademoiselle de Varion. 
 Also, he had sought to preserve his life, so that 
 he might have revenge. But now that events had 
 taken their turn, he showed himself not afraid to 
 face death. 
 
 "It is a pity," I said, "that a brave man should 
 be so great a liar." 
 
 "Rather," he said, "that so brave a man" 
 and his look showed that he alluded to me " should 
 be so easily fooled ; and that so fair a woman should 
 be so vile a traitor." 
 
 And, seeing that I was ready, he put himself into 
 a posture of defence. 
 
 The cup of my resentment having been already 
 filled to overflowing, it was impossible for me to 
 be further angered by this. But there came on 
 me a desire to let him know that I was not as ill- 
 informed as he had thought me ; that perhaps he 
 was the greater fool. So, holding my sword low 
 ered, I said : 
 
 " You should know, monsieur, that I am aware 
 who undertook the task of betraying me to La 
 Chatre." 
 
 "And yet you say that I lie," he replied. 
 
 "I know even how the matter was to be con
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 335 
 
 ducted," I went on. "The spy was first to learn 
 my place of refuge and send the information to 
 La Chatre. The governor was then to come to 
 Clochonne. The governor is already at Clochonne. 
 The spy, doubtless, learned where I hid, and sent 
 word to La Chatre." 
 
 "Doubtless," he replied, impassively, "inasmuch 
 as you speak of one of mademoiselle's boys having 
 left you. He was probably the messenger." 
 
 "Monsieur," I said, "you desire to leave a slan 
 der of mademoiselle that may afflict me or her after 
 your death ; but your quickness to perceive circum 
 stances that seemingly fit your lie will not avail you. 
 A thousand facts might seem to bear out your false 
 hood, yet I would not heed them. I would know 
 them to be accidental. For every lie there are 
 many circumstances that may be turned to its sup 
 port. So do not, in dying, felicitate yourself on 
 leaving behind you a lie that will live to injure her 
 or me. Your lie shall die with you." 
 
 "You tire me with reiterations, monsieur," he 
 replied, calmly. " Since you will maintain that I 
 have lied, do so. It is you who will suffer for 
 your blindness, not I. I told you the truth, not 
 really because I wished to do you a kindness, but 
 because there was a chance of its serving my own 
 purpose. The woman came here to find your hiding- 
 place, and betray you to the governor. La Chatre
 
 33 6 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 engaged her to do so. His secretary, Montignac, 
 took it into his head that he would like to become 
 sole possessor of mademoiselle's time and attractions. 
 But he could not undo the governor's plans, nor 
 could he hope for the woman's cooperation, as she 
 seems to have taken a dislike to him. It had been 
 agreed that, when she had turned you over to the 
 governor's soldiers, she should go to Fleurier to 
 receive her reward. She had made this condition 
 so that she might keep out of the way of Montignac. 
 Now he dared not interfere to prevent her from 
 doing the governor's errand, but he hoped to see 
 more of her after that should be completed. Such, 
 as it was necessary for him to tell me, was the state 
 of his mind when I came along I, ordered from 
 court, hounded from Paris by creditors, ragged and 
 ready for what might turn up. Near Fleurier Mon 
 tignac turned up, in La Chatre's cavalcade. He 
 wanted me to become the woman's escort to Clo- 
 chonne, keep my eyes on her, know when she had 
 settled your business, and, when she was about to 
 start for Fleurier, keep her as his guest in a house 
 that I was to hire in Clochonne. But why do I 
 grow chilly telling you all this, when you do not 
 intend to believe me ? Shall we not begin, mon 
 sieur ? " 
 
 " Doubtless you are vain of your skill at fabrica 
 tion, monsieur," I said, wishing to deprive him of
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 337 
 
 the satisfaction of thinking me deceived by his story, 
 "but you have no reason to be. That a woman 
 should be sent to betray an outlaw, and then a man 
 sent to keep her in view and finally hold her, it is 
 complicated, to say the least. Why should you- not 
 have been sent to take me ? " I thought that I had 
 touched him here. 
 
 "That is what I asked Montignac," he replied. 
 " But he told me that she had already been commis 
 sioned to hunt you down, before he had made up his 
 mind to possess her by force. Moreover, it would 
 not do to disturb the governor's plan, on which the 
 governor was mightily set, though Montignac him 
 self had suggested it. ' And,' said Montignac, ' you 
 have not a woman's wit to find his hiding-place, or a 
 woman's means of luring him from his men.' And 
 yet, you will remember that when I thought you 
 were a lackey, and you offered to deliver La Tour- 
 noire to me, I grasped at the chance, for I knew 
 that, however set the governor might be on having 
 the lady take you, he would be glad enough to have 
 you taken by any one, and if I took you and got the 
 reward I could afford to bear Montignac's displeasure. 
 I think Montignac's desire to have the lady take you 
 was due to his having suggested the plan. He wanted 
 both the credit of having devised your capture and 
 the pleasure of mademoiselle's society. Yes, when 
 you held out to me the possibility, I was willing to
 
 338 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 risk Montignac's resentment and take La Tournoire 
 myself. Before that, I had confined myself to the 
 task of following mademoiselle. At first you and 
 your supposed master were in my way. I had hoped 
 to get her from you, and to obtain her esteem by the 
 mock rescue, but this was spoiled first by my men 
 and then by you. After that failure, I could merely 
 follow and hope that chance would enable me to do 
 Montignac's will." 
 
 " You cleverly mix truth and fiction, monsieur," 
 I said. "You interest me. Go on." 
 
 It is true that he did interest me, so ingenious did 
 I think his recital. 
 
 " I have no wish to prolong the life of one of us by 
 this talk," he replied, "but a tale once begun should 
 be finished. You know how you promised to deliver 
 up La Tournoire to me. I grant that you kept the 
 promise to the letter. During the rest of that night 
 I lay quiet with my men. We heard your departure 
 the next morning, and when the way was clear we 
 followed in your track. We could do so quietly, for 
 we were afoot ; we had left our horses in another 
 part of this wilderness the day before. We heard 
 you greeted by your sentinel, and guessed that you 
 were near your burrow. We came no further, but 
 looked around and found a projecting rock, under 
 which to lie hidden, and a tree from whose top this 
 place could be seen. So we have lodged under the
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 339 
 
 rock, one of us keeping watch night and day from 
 the tree. I hoped thus to be able to know when you 
 should be taken, so that I might then look to the 
 lady. But no soldiers came for you, neither you nor 
 the lady departed from the place, no sign came to 
 indicate an attack or a flight. You can imagine, 
 monsieur, how a gentleman accustomed to court 
 pleasures and Parisian fare enjoyed the kind of life 
 that we have been leading for these several days. 
 Now and then one of us would crawl forth to a stream 
 for water, or forage for nuts and berries, and we 
 snared a few birds, which we had to eat raw, not 
 daring to make a fire. This existence became tire 
 some. This afternoon three of my knaves deserted. 
 What was I to do? It was useless to go back to 
 Montignac without having done his work. To stay 
 there awaiting your capture or the lady's departure 
 was perhaps to starve. To go any distance from 
 this place was to lose sight of the woman, who might 
 leave at any time, and we could not know what direc 
 tion she might take. The enterprise had been at 
 best a scurvy one, fit only for a man at the end of his 
 resources. In fine, monsieur, when the last of my 
 men threatened to follow his comrades, I crawled out 
 of my hole, stretched my aching bones, and resolved 
 to let Montignac's business go to the devil. There 
 was no chance for me in the service of the French 
 King, therefore I came to offer myself as a member
 
 340 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 of your company. In the Huguenot cause I might 
 earn back some of the good things of life. It no 
 longer matters on which side I fight. 'Twas the 
 same with Barbemouche. And, inasmuch as I had 
 decided to cast in my fortunes with yours, I naturally 
 wished you well. Thus it was my own interest I 
 sought to serve, as well as yours, when I told you 
 that this woman came here to betray you to La 
 Chatre." 
 
 "You told me that," said I, calmly, "for one or 
 both of two purposes, the first, to make me with 
 draw my protection from the lady, in order that she 
 might be at your disposal ; the second, to get my 
 confidence, in order that you yourself might betray 
 me to La Chatre." 
 
 De Berquin laughed. " Am I, then, such a fool as 
 to think that the wary Tournoire could be put off 
 his guard by a man ? No, no. The governor or 
 Montignac was wise in choosing a woman for that 
 delicate task. It is only by a Delilah that a Samson 
 can be caught ! " 
 
 "Monsieur," I said, with ironical admiration, "you 
 are indeed as artful in your lies as you are bold. 
 You have constructed a story that every circum 
 stance seems to bear out. Yet one circumstance 
 you have forgotten, or you are not aware of it. It 
 destroys your whole edifice. The father of Mile, de 
 Varion is now a prisoner, held by the governor's
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 34! 
 
 order, on a charge of treason for having harbored 
 Huguenots. Would his daughter undertake to do 
 the work of a spy and a traitor for that governor 
 against a Huguenot ? Now for your ingenuity, 
 monsieur ! " 
 
 " Such things have been known," he answered, 
 not at all discomfited. " His daughter may not 
 have her father's weakness for Huguenots, and if 
 she bears resentment against the governor on her 
 father's account, her desire of the reward may out 
 weigh that resentment. Covetousness is strong in 
 women. You would not expect great filial devotion 
 in a hired spy and traitress. Moreover, for all I 
 know, this woman may not be Mile, de Varion, 
 although Montignac so named her to me. She may 
 have assumed that character at his suggestion, in 
 order to get your confidence and sympathy, not dar 
 ing to pretend to be a Huguenot lest some habitual 
 act might betray the deception." 
 
 "Enough, M. de Berquin," I said. "I do your 
 wit the credit of admitting that so well-wrought a lie 
 was never before told. Only two things prevent its 
 being believed. It is to me that you tell it, and it is 
 of Mile, de Varion ! You complained a while ago of 
 being chilly. Let us now warm ourselves ! " 
 
 And so we went at it. I had no reason now to 
 repeat the trick by which I had before disarmed 
 him. Indeed, I wished him to keep sword in hand
 
 342 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 that I might have no scruples about killing him. 
 I never could bring myself to give the death thrust 
 to an unarmed man. Yet I was determined that the 
 brain whence had sprung so horrible a story against 
 my beloved should invent no more, that the lips 
 which had uttered the accusation should not speak 
 again. Yet he gave me a hard fight. It was for his 
 life that he now wielded sword, and he was not now 
 taken by surprise as he had been in our former 
 meetings, or unsteadied by a desire of making a 
 great flourish before a lady. He now brought to 
 his use all his training as a fencer. He had a 
 strong wrist and a good eye, despite the dissolute 
 life that he had led. For some minutes our swords 
 clashed, our boots beat the ground, and our lungs 
 panted as we fought in the moonlight. I was 
 anxious to have the thing over quickly, lest the noise 
 we made might reach the ears of mademoiselle, and 
 perhaps bring her to the scene. I knew that Blaise 
 would keep the men away, but he would not pre 
 sume to restrain mademoiselle. I wished, too, to 
 have the thrust made before my antagonist should 
 begin to show weakness of body or uncertainty of 
 eye. But he maintained a good guard, and also 
 required me to give much time and attention to my 
 own defence. Indeed, his point once passed through 
 my shirt under my left shoulder, my left arm being 
 then raised. But at last I caught him between two
 
 HOW DE BERQUIN INVITED DEATH. 343 
 
 ribs as he was coming forward, and it was almost as 
 though he had fallen on my sword. I missed his 
 own sword only by quickly turning sidewise so that 
 his weapon ran along the front of my breast without 
 touching me. 
 
 He uttered one shriek, I drew my sword out of 
 his body, and he fell in a limp heap. With a con 
 vulsive motion he straightened out and was still. I 
 turned his body so that his face was towards the sky, 
 and I went back to the courtyard, leaving him alone 
 in the moonlight.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE I " 
 
 IN the courtyard was mademoiselle, very pale and 
 agitated, standing by Blaise and grasping his arm 
 as if for support. She still had on the gown of pale 
 green that she had worn earlier in the evening. Her 
 head was uncovered, her hair in some disorder, and 
 this, with the pallor of her face and the fright in her 
 wide-open eyes, gave her some wildness of appear 
 ance. It was De Berquin's piercing death-cry that 
 had blanched her cheek and made her clutch Blaise's 
 arm. 
 
 " You have killed him ! " she said, in a voice little 
 above a whisper. 
 
 "You ought not to be here, mademoiselle," I 
 replied. 
 
 "From my chamber window I saw you talking 
 with M. de Berquin. What he said I know not, 
 but you drew your sword and went away with him. 
 I waited for a long time in anxiety until I heard the 
 sound of swords. I came down, and would have 
 gone to beg you to stop, but when I heard that 
 
 344
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE!" 345 
 
 awful shriek I could not go any further. Oh, mon 
 sieur, you have killed him ! " 
 
 " He brought it on himself, mademoiselle," was 
 all that I could say. 
 
 And here Blaise did what I thought a strange and 
 presumptuous thing. He approached mademoiselle, 
 and, looking her keenly in the eyes, said, gravely : 
 
 " He said that you came from the governor of the 
 province to betray M. de la Tournoire ! " 
 
 " Blaise ! " I cried, in great astonishment and 
 anger. " How dare you even utter the calumny he 
 spoke ? Go you and look to the disposal of his 
 body." And I motioned him away with a wrathful 
 gesture. 
 
 He looked frowningly at mademoiselle and then 
 at me, and went off, with a shrug of his shoulders, 
 to the place where De Berquin lay. 
 
 I turned to mademoiselle ; she stood like a statue, 
 her eyes fixed on the empty air before her. Yet 
 she seemed to know when my look fell on her, for 
 at that instant a slight tremor passed through her. 
 
 "Tremble not for M. de Berquin, mademoiselle," 
 said I, thinking of that divine gentleness in a woman 
 which makes her pity even those who have perse 
 cuted her. " Indeed, he must have wished to die. 
 He well knew that a certain way to death was to 
 tempt my sword with a black lie of the truest lady 
 in France."
 
 346 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "You killed him," she murmured, in a low, pitying 
 voice, " because he said I came from the governor 
 to betray you ! " 
 
 " Why else, mademoiselle ? What is the matter ? 
 Why do you look so ? " 
 
 For all life and consciousness seemed to be about 
 to leave her countenance. 
 
 "Mon dieu!" she said, weakly, "I cannot tell 
 I " 
 
 I hastened to put my arms about her, that she 
 might not fall. 
 
 "You pity him," I said, "but there could be 
 nothing of good in one who could so slander you. 
 Indeed, mademoiselle, you are ill. Let me lead you 
 in. Believe me, mademoiselle, he well deserved his 
 death." 
 
 Thus endeavoring to calm and restore her mind, 
 I led her slowly into the chateau and up the steps 
 to the door of her chamber. She followed as one 
 without will and with little strength. Hugo and 
 Jeannotte, who had been sitting on the landing out 
 side her door, had risen as we came up the stairs. 
 When I took my arms from about mademoiselle, she 
 leaned on the maid's shoulder, and so passed into her 
 chamber, giving me neither look nor word. Leaving 
 Hugo to keep his vigil outside her door, I went down 
 to the great hall of the chateau. 
 
 Several of the men lay on the floor, most of them
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE!" 347 
 
 asleep. I asked one of them where Blaise had 
 bestowed the three rascals who had become our 
 prisoners, and he rose and led the way to a dark 
 chamber at the rear of the hall. He took a torch 
 that was stuck in the wall and followed me into this 
 chamber. It was my desire to learn from these men 
 whether or not Barbemouche, or one of them, had 
 borne to M. de la Chatre an account of my hiding- 
 place ; for there had been time for one to have done 
 so and returned. It might be that the original plan 
 suggested to the governor by Montignac had been 
 altered and that some other step had been adopted 
 for my capture. The very visit of De Berquin, the 
 very story he had told me, might have been con 
 nected with this other step. One of his purposes, 
 in trying to make me think myself betrayed, may 
 have been to induce me to leave a place so inac 
 cessible to attack. If a new plan had been put in 
 operation, these men might know something of it. 
 I would question them and then consult with Blaise, 
 comparing the answers they should give me with 
 those they had given Blaise. 
 
 They lay snoring, their hands fastened behind their 
 backs, their ankles so tied that they could not stretch 
 out their legs. The man with me said that Blaise, 
 after belaboring them and interrogating them to his 
 heart's content, had relented, and brought some cold 
 meat and wine for them. I suppose that the gentle
 
 348 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 spirit of his mother had obtained the ascendency. 
 They had devoured the food with the avidity of starv 
 ing dogs, and had lain down, full of gratitude, to 
 sleep. Blaise had then bound them up as a precau 
 tion against a too unceremonious departure. I woke 
 them one after another, with gentle kicks, and they 
 stared up at me, blinking in the torchlight. Sub 
 missively and readily, though drowsily, they answered 
 my questions. They swore that neither Barbemouche 
 nor any one of them, nor De Berquin himself, had 
 borne any message to the governor; that the five 
 had remained together from the first, living under 
 the rock and keeping watch from the tree-top, as 
 De Berquin had narrated, until the previous after 
 noon, when the three had deserted, only to fall into 
 the hands of our sentinel. In every detail their ac 
 count agreed with that of their late master. When I 
 accused them of telling a prearranged lie, and threat 
 ened them with the torture, the foppish fellow said : 
 
 " What more can a man tell than the truth ? But 
 if you're not satisfied with it, monsieur, and let me 
 know what you wish me to say, I'll say it with all 
 my heart, and swear to it on whatever you name." 
 
 From the faces of the others, I knew that they, 
 too, were willing to tell anything, true or false, to 
 avoid torture, and so I could not but believe their 
 story. Therefore, said I to myself, Montignac's plan 
 was not adhered to. De Berquin sent no one to the
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE ! " 349 
 
 governor with information concerning my hiding- 
 place. La Chatre had come to Clochonne without 
 having awaited such information. De Berquin had 
 been too slow. Perhaps, indeed, the plan had been 
 altered so as to omit the sending of this preliminary 
 word to the governor. A fixed time might have been 
 set for the coming of the governor to Clochonne. 
 De Berquin had probably retained his men that he 
 might have one to use as messenger to the governor, 
 in notifying La Chatre where to place his ambuscade, 
 and that he might have others to waylay mademoi 
 selle. His lie was doubtless a bold device to put 
 mademoiselle into his power, and to get entrance to 
 my company. It was a last resource, it was just as 
 likely to bring death as to bring success, but he had 
 taken a gambler's chances. They had gone -against 
 him, and he had uncomplainingly accepted his defeat. 
 So the governor's presence at Clochonne was not 
 to be taken as reason for great alarm, inasmuch as 
 there seemed now no probability that he knew my 
 hiding-place. We were still safe at Maury. We 
 should have only to maintain greater vigilance. Fail 
 ing to hear from his agent, who now lay dead in the 
 garden at Maury, and could never work us harm, the 
 governor would eventually take new measures for my 
 capture, or, if I kept quiet and my men left no traces, 
 he would presently suppose that I had gone from his 
 province. As for mademoiselle, neither La Chatre
 
 3 SO AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 nor Montignac knew where she was. We might, 
 therefore, have more of those delightful, peaceful 
 days at Maury. Moreover, what better time to sur 
 prise the commandant of the Chateau of Fleurier 
 than while La Chatre was at Clochonne ? My heart 
 beat gaily at thought of how bright was the prospect. 
 I passed out by a back way to the garden, where 
 Blaise had been looking to the body of De Berquin. 
 
 My late antagonist lay in peace and order, Blaise 
 having replaced his doublet on him and put his 
 sword by his side. 
 
 "A handsome gentleman," said Blaise, quietly, 
 looking down at the body. 
 
 " But a fool as well as a liar," said I. " How 
 could he think that such a story was to be swal 
 lowed ? To have thrown him into confusion, I should 
 have told him that I had overheard the plan for my 
 capture, that I knew of an attempt to be made to 
 get me from my men, that mademoiselle has never 
 made any such attempt either by tryst or summons 
 or on any pretext whatever." 
 
 "Neither has De Berquin," answered Blaise, sul 
 lenly, " and yet you think he was the spy whom the 
 governor sent." 
 
 " He had no opportunity," I replied, rather sharply, 
 annoyed at Blaise's manner. " He did not dare come 
 here until he had formed a desperate plan on which 
 to hazard everything."
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE !" 35 I 
 
 " As for mademoiselle's having had the opportun 
 ity and yet not having done so," Blaise went on, 
 with a kind of doggedness, "the spy was not to 
 plan the ambush until the governor should arrive 
 at Clochonne." 
 
 " By God ! " I cried. " Do you dare hint that 
 you credit this villain's lie for a moment?" In my 
 exasperation I half drew my sword. 
 
 "I credit nothing and discredit nothing," he said, 
 in a low but stubborn tone, "but I place no one 
 above doubt, except God and you. I have had 
 my thoughts, monsieur, and have them still. It is 
 enough, as yet, to keep all eyes open and turned 
 in many directions." 
 
 "You cur! You dare to suspect " Without 
 finishing the sentence, I struck him across the face 
 with the back of my hand. 
 
 He drew a deep breath, but made no movement. 
 
 " I shall not trouble myself to suspect," he went 
 on, with no change of tone, "until we know that 
 M. de la Chatre is at Clochonne, ' 
 
 "We know that already," I broke in, hotly. 
 " Marianne brought the news this afternoon." 
 
 "Until we know that mademoiselle knows it," he 
 went on. 
 
 " We know that, too," I said. " She heard Mari 
 anne tell me." 
 
 " Until her other servant happens to be missing,
 
 352 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 and some occasion arises through her for your going 
 somewhere without your men. For example, if she 
 should go for a walk in the forest with her maid, 
 and presently the maid should return with word that 
 mademoiselle lay mortally hurt somewhere " 
 
 " I would go to her at once ! " I cried, involun 
 tarily. 
 
 "So mademoiselle would suppose. You would 
 not wait for your men to arm and accompany you. 
 You would hasten to the place, without precaution, 
 never thinking that mademoiselle's servant might 
 have carried word to La Chatre, a day before, to 
 have men waiting for you. Kill me if you like, 
 monsieur ! I cannot avoid my thoughts. They are 
 at your service as my hand and sword are. I may 
 be all wrong, but one cannot fathom women. You 
 used to speak of a lady of Catherine de Medici's 
 
 Ah, considered I, it is the thought of Mile. d'A- 
 rency's deed that has awakened these foolish sus 
 picions in Blaise's mind ! I had given him some 
 account of how that lady had, by a love tryst, drawn 
 poor De Noyard to his death. He was incapable of 
 discriminating between women. He could not see 
 that Mile, de Varion was of a kind of woman as 
 unlike the court intriguer as if the two belonged 
 to different species of beings. Ought one to expect 
 delicacy of perception from a common soldier ? His 
 suspiciousness arose partly from his devotion to me.
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE!" 353 
 
 So, much as I adored mademoiselle and held her 
 sacred and above the slightest breath of accusation, 
 I regretted the blow I had given him, and which he 
 had received so meekly. 
 
 "I see, Blaise, what is in your head," I said, "but 
 there are matters of which you cannot judge. No 
 more of this talk, therefore. And I require of you 
 the greatest respect and devotion to mademoiselle." 
 
 "Very well, monsieur," he said. "Let me say 
 but this : You remember my forebodings the last 
 time we rode through the province. Because we 
 came back alive, you thought there was nothing in 
 them. Perhaps there was nothing. Only I have 
 been thinking that out of that last journey may yet 
 come our destruction. My premonition may have 
 been right, after all." 
 
 I smiled and walked back to the courtyard and 
 sat down on the bench, no longer angry at either 
 De Berquin or Blaise, and calm in the thought that 
 there seemed no immediate danger. If I could but 
 communicate my sense of security to mademoiselle ! 
 If I might see a smile on her face, if the look of 
 yielding would but come back there and remain ! 
 Surely her scruples would pass when I should bring 
 her father to her. What imaginary barrier could 
 stand before the combined forces of love and grati 
 tude ? The rescue of her father must not be longer 
 deferred. I must form my plan immediately. Yet
 
 354 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 I continued to waste time thinking of the future, of 
 the day when she should acknowledge herself mine. 
 I took off my hat and removed from it the glove 
 that she had given me. It was like a part of her ; 
 it was fashioned by use to the very form of her 
 hand. I pressed it to my lips and then looked up 
 at the window of her chamber. 
 
 " Ah, Mile. Julie," I said, " I know that you love 
 me. You will be mine ; something in the moon 
 light, in the murmurs of the trees, in the song of the 
 nightingale, tells me so. How beautiful is the world ! 
 I am too happy ! " 
 
 I heard rapid footsteps from outside the gate, and 
 presently one of my men ran into the courtyard 
 from the forest. It was Frojac, who had been all 
 day in Cloqhonne in search of information. Seeing 
 me, he stopped and stood still, out of breath from 
 his run. 
 
 At the same moment Blaise came from the garden 
 and stood beside the bench, curious to hear Frojac's 
 news. 
 
 "Ah, Frojac!" said I. "From Clochonne ? I 
 know your news already. M. de la Chatre is there." 
 
 And I motioned to him to speak quietly, lest his 
 news, which might be alarming, should reach the 
 ears of mademoiselle through her chamber window. 
 
 " I had a talk with one of his men," said Frojac, 
 "an old comrade of mine, who did not guess that I
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE !" 355 
 
 was of your troop. I told him that I had given 
 up fighting and settled down as a poacher. He says 
 that it is well known to the governor's soldiers that 
 the governor has come south to catch you. He de 
 clares that the governor knows the exact location of 
 your hiding-place." 
 
 "Soldiers' gabble," said I. 
 
 " But my old comrade is no fool," went on Frojac. 
 " I pretended to laugh at him for thinking that any 
 one could find out the burrow of La Tournoire, 
 and as we were drinking he got angry and swore 
 that he spoke truly. He said that the governor had 
 got word of your hiding-place from a boy. If you 
 knew my comrade, monsieur, you would know that 
 what he says is to be heeded. He is one who talks 
 little, but keeps his ears and eyes open." 
 
 " Word from a boy ? " I repeated, rather to myself. 
 " Could De Berquin have found some peasant boy 
 and despatched him to the governor ? " 
 
 " My comrade says that the boy was sent by a 
 woman," said Frojac. 
 
 "A woman!" I cried. "If it be true, then, 
 malediction on her! Some covetous, spying wife of 
 a farmer has found us out, perchance ! " 
 
 " Perchance, monsieur ! But, all the same, I 
 and Maugert, who was on guard yonder by the path, 
 took the liberty just now of stopping the boy of 
 mademoiselle, your guest, as he was riding off. In
 
 356 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 advance of him rode a woman. I had just come up 
 the path and had stopped for a word with Maugert. 
 Suddenly the woman dashed by and was gone in an 
 instant. Neither of us had time to make up our 
 minds whether to stop her or not, for she came from 
 this place, not towards it. By the time when we had 
 decided that we ought to have detained her, she was 
 out of hearing. But then came a second horse, and 
 that we stopped. The rider was the boy Hugo." 
 
 "An unknown woman departing from our very 
 camp ! " I said, rising. " The gypsy girl ! " But at 
 that instant the gypsy girl, Giralda, came in through 
 the gateway with an armful of herbs that she had 
 been gathering just outside the walls. She often 
 plucked herbs after dark, as there are some whose 
 potency is believed to be the greater for their being 
 uprooted at night. " Ah, no, no, no ! " I cried, re 
 penting my unjust suspicion. "A woman hidden at 
 Maury ! She shall be followed and caught and 
 treated like any cur of a papegot spy, man or wo 
 man ! " I was wild with rage to think that our hid 
 ing-place might really have been discovered, my 
 guards eluded, the presence of mademoiselle perhaps 
 reported to Montignac, her safety and ours put in 
 immediate peril, by some one who had contrived to 
 find concealment under our very eyes ! " And the 
 boy Hugo riding off by night ! " I added. " Had 
 this woman corrupted him, I wonder ? Was it
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE!" 357 
 
 through him that she obtained entrance and con 
 cealment ? Where is he ? " 
 
 I could at that moment have believed the most 
 incredible things, even that a woman had hidden 
 herself in one of the ruined outbuildings ; for what 
 could have been more incredible than Frojac's ac 
 count of an unknown woman riding from the chateau 
 at the utmost speed ? 
 
 " Maugert is bringing him to you," said Frojac. 
 " I ran 'ahead to apprise you of what had occurred." 
 
 " These are astounding things," I said, turning to 
 Blaise. " Who can tell now how much the governor 
 knows or what he may intend ? We may be attacked 
 at any time. And half our men away ! Perhaps the 
 governor knows that, too. If not, this woman may 
 tell him. We shall have to flee at once across the 
 mountains. Mademoiselle is now well enough to 
 endure the journey. I must tell her to make ready 
 for flight." 
 
 I looked up at mademoiselle's window, and took a 
 step towards it; but at that moment Maugert came 
 into the courtyard, leading Hugo, whom he held by 
 the arm with a grip of iron. The horse had been 
 left outside. 
 
 " My boy, what is this ? " I cried, not hiding my 
 anger. " You would ride away secretly, and without 
 permission of your mistress ? " 
 
 " It was my duty, when I followed to protect her,"
 
 358 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the boy said. " Mile, de Varion was mad, I think, to 
 go alone at this hour." 
 
 " Mademoiselle ? " I echoed, in great mystification. 
 "Alone? Whither?" 
 
 "To Clochonne, to M. de la Chatre," was the 
 reply. 
 
 It took away from me for a moment the very power 
 of speech. I stared at the boy in dumb amazement. 
 
 " Clochonne ! La Chatre ! Mademoiselle ! " I mur 
 mured, questioningly, my faculty of comprehension 
 being for the instant dazed. " How do you know, 
 boy ? " 
 
 " She said so when she left this courtyard to take 
 horse," the boy replied. "When I asked her whither 
 she was bound, she said to Clochonne to see M. de 
 la Chatre, and she spoke of some mission, but I 
 could not hear the words exactly, for she was in 
 great excitement. She then made off, declaring she 
 would go alone, but it was my duty, nevertheless, to 
 follow and guard her." 
 
 " Mademoiselle gone to Clochonne, to La Chatre," 
 I repeated, as one in a dream. 
 
 At that instant there came again from somewhere 
 in the chateau the voice of the gypsy in the song, 
 
 " False flame of woman's love ! " 
 
 " The devil ! " muttered Blaise. " Was De Ber- 
 quin right ? " And he ran into the chateau.
 
 'CLOCHONNE! LA CHATRE ! MADEMOISELLE!' I MUR 
 MURED."
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE!" 359 
 
 " The woman who told our hiding-place ! " said 
 Frojac. 
 
 Could it be ? Was she another Mademoiselle 
 d'Arency ? Had she thought that, after De Ber- 
 quin's accusation, any attempt on her part to draw 
 me from my men would convict her in my eyes ; 
 that indeed I might come at any moment to believe 
 in the treachery of which he had warned me ? 
 Had this thought driven her to Clochonne, where 
 she might be safe from my avenging wrath, where 
 also she might advise the governor to attack me at 
 once ? She had spoken to the boy of a mission. 
 There had, then, been a mission, and it had to do 
 with herself and the governor ! As this horrible idea 
 rilled my mind, I felt a kind of sinking, and as if the 
 very earth trembled beneath me. But then I thought 
 of mademoiselle's sweet face, and I hurled the dark 
 thought from me, amazed that I could have held it 
 for an instant. 
 
 "It is not true!" I cried, loudly. "By God, it is 
 not true ! I'll not -believe it ! She has not gone ! She 
 is in her chamber yonder ! " And I went and stood 
 beneath her window. " Mademoiselle ! Come to the 
 window ! Tell us that the boy lies or is deluded ! 
 Mademoiselle, I say ! " 
 
 But no face appeared at the window that window 
 up to which I had looked a few moments before while I 
 sat on the bench, thinking that my love was behind it.
 
 360 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 And now Blaise came running out of the chateau. 
 He stopped on the steps. 
 
 " She is not there," he said. " I found only the 
 maid, wailing out prayers to a Catholic saint ! " 
 
 So she was really gone gone ! She must have left 
 while I was interrogating De Berquin's three hench 
 men in their cell or while I had stood with Blaise in 
 the garden, reproving him for his suspicions of her. 
 
 " And because he assailed her loyalty I killed that 
 man ! " I said aloud, forgetful, for the time, of the 
 presence of Blaise and Frojac, Maugert, Hugo, and 
 the gypsy girl. All these stood in silence, not 
 knowing what to do or say, awaiting some order 
 or sign from me. 
 
 " She is a woman, monsieur ! " said Blaise, gently, 
 as if he thought to please me by offering some 
 excuse for her conduct, or for my having been so 
 deceived in her. 
 
 And then again I saw her pure, pale face, her 
 full, moist eyes, her slender, girlish figure. Let the 
 evidence be what it might, it was impossible for me 
 to see her in my mind and conceive her to be 
 treacherous. There must be some other thing ac 
 counting for all these strange circumstances. She 
 could not be a spy, a hired traitress ! A glad 
 thought came to me. She might have thought that 
 her presence added to my danger, that I would re 
 fuse to leave Maury while she continued weak, that I
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE I" 361 
 
 might thus through her be caught, that her depar 
 ture would leave me no reason for further delay. 
 It was a wild thought, but it was within possibility, 
 so I took it in and clung to it. At such a time how 
 does a man welcome the least surmise that agrees 
 with his wishes or checks his fears ! 
 
 "She is a woman, monsieur!" Blaise had said, 
 even while this thought burst upon me. 
 
 " So much the worse for any man that dare ac 
 cuse her ! " I cried. " She is the victim of some 
 devilish seeming ! My armor, Maugert ! Frojac, to 
 horse ! You and I ride at once ! Blaise, marshal 
 the men, and follow when you can, by the forest 
 path ! " 
 
 "Ah!" cried Blaise, overjoyed. "To Guienne, 
 to join Henri of Navarre ? " 
 
 " No ! " I answered. " To Clochonne, to join made 
 moiselle ! " 
 
 Maugert obediently and hastily brought me my 
 breast-piece, and began to adjust it to my body. I 
 already had my sword. Frojac had started. for the 
 stables, but at my answer to Blaise he stopped and 
 looked at me in astonishment. 
 
 It was thus with me : Mademoiselle had gone. 
 The presence that had made Maury a paradise to me 
 was no longer there. The place was now intolerable. 
 I could not exist away from mademoiselle. Where 
 she was not, life to me was torture. Guilty or inno-
 
 362 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 cent, she gave the world all the charm it had for 
 me. Traitress or true, she drew me to her. If 
 she were innocent, she imperilled herself. In any 
 event, if she went to Clochonne she put herself in 
 the power of Montignac. The thought of that was 
 maddening to me. I must find her, whatever the 
 risk. Perhaps I could catch her before she reached 
 Clochonne. If I ran into danger, I should presently 
 have Blaise and the men to help me out ; but I could 
 not wait for them to arm. Every minute of delay 
 was galling. Into what might she fall ? Whatever 
 she be, good or bad, angel or fiend, I must see her 
 see her ! 
 
 Blaise stood looking at me with open mouth. 
 
 " She will prove her honesty, my life upon it ! " I 
 said. 
 
 " You are mad ! " cried Blaise. " She will reach 
 the chateau of Clochonne long before you do ! " 
 
 "Then I shall enter the chateau!" I answered, 
 helping Maugert buckle on my armor. 
 
 " And meet the governor and garrison ! " said 
 Blaise. 
 
 " They will rejoice to see me ! " 
 
 " 'Tis rushing into the lion's den, monsieur ! " put 
 in Frojac. 
 
 " Let the lion look to himself," said I, standing 
 forth at last, all armed and ready. 
 
 Frojac ran to get the horses.
 
 "GOD GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE I " 363 
 
 " They would not let you see her ! " cried Blaise, 
 stubbornly standing in my way. " You would go 
 straight to death for nothing ! My captain, you 
 shall not!" 
 
 And, as I started towards the stables to mount, 
 he lay hands on me to hold me back, and Maugert, 
 too, caught me by one of the arms. 
 
 " Out of my way, rebels ! " I cried, vehemently, 
 struggling to free myself from them. " I shall see 
 her to-night though I have to beat down every sword 
 in France and force the very gates of hell ! " 
 
 I threw them both from me so violently that 
 neither dared touch me again. As I stepped for 
 ward I saw on the ground at my feet the glove that 
 mademoiselle had given me, and which I had been 
 caressing while sitting alone in the courtyard. I 
 must have dropped it on hearing Frojac's news. I 
 now stopped and picked it up. 'Twas all that was 
 left with me of mademoiselle. She had worn it, it 
 had the form of her hand. I held it in my fingers 
 and looked at it. Again came the song of the gypsy, 
 
 " False flame of woman's love ! " 
 
 I pressed the glove again and again to my lips, tears 
 gushed from my eyes, and I murmured : " Ah, mad 
 emoiselle, God grant I do not find you false ! " 
 
 Five minutes later, Frojac and I were speeding 
 our horses over the forest path towards Clochonne.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TO CLOCHONNE, AFTER MADEMOISELLE! 
 
 ON through the forest, on over the narrow path, the 
 horse seeming to feel my own impatience, his hoofs 
 crushing the fallen twigs and the vegetation that lay 
 in the way, the branches of the trees striking me 
 in forehead and eyes, my heart on fire, my mind 
 a turmoil, on to learn the truth, on to see her ! 
 The moon was now overhead, and here and there 
 it lighted up the path. Close behind me came Fro- 
 jac. I heard the footfalls and the breathing of his 
 horse. 
 
 Would we come up to her before she reached 
 Clochonne ? This depended on the length of start 
 she had. She would lose some time, perhaps, through 
 being less familiar with the road than we were, yet 
 wherever the road lay straight before her she would 
 force her horse to its utmost, guessing that her de 
 parture would be discovered and herself pursued. 
 
 My mind inclined this way and that as I rode. 
 Now I saw how strong was the evidence against her, 
 yet I refused to be convinced by it before I should
 
 TO CLOCHONNE! 365 
 
 
 
 hear what she might have to say. Now I conjured 
 up her image before me, and then all the evidence 
 was naught. It was impossible that this face, of all 
 faces in the world, could have been a mask to con 
 ceal "falsehood and treachery, that this voice could 
 have lied in its sweet and sorrowful tones, that her 
 appearance of grief could have been but a pretence, 
 that her seemingly unconscious signs of love could 
 have been simulation ! 
 
 Yet had not the gypsy sung of the false flame of 
 woman's love ? It is true, she had bade me heed 
 these words. Would she have done so had her 
 own appearance of love been false ? Perhaps it was 
 this very thought, the very improbability of a false 
 woman's warning a man against woman's treachery, 
 that had made her do so, that I might the less readily 
 on occasion believe her false. Who can tell the re 
 sources and devices of a subtle woman ? 
 
 What ? Was I doubting her ? Was I believing the 
 story ? Was I, with my closer knowledge of her, 
 with my experience of the freaks of circumstance, 
 with my perception of her heart, to accept the first 
 apparent deduction from the few facts at hand, as 
 blind, unthinking, undiscriminating soldiers, Blaise 
 and Frojac, had done ? Did I not know of what kind 
 of woman she was ? She was no Mile. d'Arency. 
 
 Yet, who knows but that poor De Noyard had be 
 lieved Mile. d'Arency true ? Might he not, with the
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 eyes of love, have seen in her as pure and spotless a 
 creature as I had seen in Mile, de Varion ? Do the 
 eyes of love, then, deceive ? Is the confidence of 
 lovers never to be relied on ? 
 
 But I must have read her heart aright. Surely 
 her heart had spoken to mine. Surely its voice was 
 that of truth. Surely I knew her. Were not her 
 eyes to be believed. Were not truth, goodness, gen 
 tleness, love, written on her face ? 
 
 Yet, how went the gypsy's song, the one we had 
 heard him sing at Godeau's inn, by the forest road ? 
 
 " But, ah, the sadness of the day 
 
 When woman shows her treason ! 
 And, oh, the price we have to pay 
 
 For joys that have their season ! 
 Her look of love is but a mask 
 
 For plots that she is weaving. 
 Alas, for those who fondly bask 
 
 In smiles that are deceiving ! " 
 
 Might this, then, be true of any woman ? So 
 many men had found it out. The eyes of so many 
 had been opened at last. Was I still a fool, had 
 I learned so little of women, had my experience with 
 Mile. d'Arency taught me only to beware of women 
 outwardly like her, did I need a separate lesson for 
 each different woman on whom I might set my heart ? 
 Was it my peculiar lot to be twice deceived in the 
 same way ?
 
 TO CLOCHONNE! 367 
 
 And yet, how her eyes had moistened in dwelling 
 on mine, how they had dropped before my look, how 
 she had yielded to my embrace, how she had stood 
 still and unresisting in my arms ! No, no, they were 
 wrong ! De Berquin had lied, Blaise and Frojac 
 were stolid fools, capable of making only the most 
 obvious inference, and I was a contemptible wretch 
 to falter in my faith in her for an instant ! She was 
 the victim of a set of circumstances. She had reason 
 for her hasty departure, she would make all clear in 
 a few words. On, on, my horse, that I may hear 
 those words, that my heart may rejoice ! How soon 
 shall we come up to her ? How far ahead is she ? 
 How near to Clochonne ? On ! She is true, I know 
 it. On ! It may be even for my sake that she is 
 endangering herself. On, that I may be at her side 
 to shield her ! On, for of late I have passed all the 
 hours of the day with her, all the nights near her, 
 her presence has been the breath of life to me, it is 
 a new and unwonted and intolerable thing to be away 
 from her, and I madly thirst and hunger for the sight 
 of her ! On, good horse ! 
 
 Yet, torturing thought, how the story explained 
 all that had seemed strange ! How it fitted so many 
 facts ! At the inn at Fleurier we had overheard the 
 plan suggested by Montignac for my capture, the 
 employment of a spy who was to find my hiding- 
 place, send word of it, then plan an ambush for me.
 
 368 AN ENEMY TO THE KING, 
 
 Then the lady had come to the inn. Perhaps she 
 was one who had already some kind of relations with 
 the governor and had now come purposely to meet 
 him. What had passed between her and the gov 
 ernor we had not overheard. It might easily have 
 been the proposal by him, and the acceptance by 
 her, of the mission against me. Such a task might 
 better be entrusted to a woman. Catherine herself 
 had employed women to entrap men who would have 
 been on their guard against men. Certain Huguenot 
 gentlemen had been especially susceptible to the 
 charms of her accomplished decoys. Then the gov 
 ernor and his secretary had gone, and the latter had 
 reappeared with De Berquin. It might really be 
 that this woman, whether she were Mile, de Varion, 
 or whether she merely took that name in order to 
 get my confidence without having to make the risky 
 pretence of being a Protestant, was desired by Mon- 
 tignac and yet disliked him, and that De Berquin 
 had been hired indeed to hold her forcibly for the 
 secretary after she had accomplished her mission. 
 But her ingenuous signs of a tender feeling for me ? 
 A device to blind me and win my trust, and so, 
 through me, get the confidence of my supposed 
 friend, La Tournoire. Her grief on the journey ? 
 Mere pretence, in order to bear out her story and 
 enlist my sympathy. Her periods of silence and 
 meditation ? She was thinking out the details of
 
 TO CLOCHONNEl 369 
 
 her plot. Her questions about La Tournoire? A 
 means of learning what manner of man she would 
 have to deal with, and of finding out his hiding- 
 place at a time when it would be easiest to despatch 
 her boy with a description of it to the governor. 
 Her desire to know how great was my friendship 
 for La Tournoire ? This arose perhaps from a 
 thought that I might be won over to her purpose, 
 perhaps from a fear that I might some day avenge 
 his betrayal. The barrier that, she said, lay between 
 us ? A pretext to get rid of me as soon as I might 
 be, not only useless to her, but also in the way of her 
 designs against La Tournoire. Her strange agita 
 tion ? A mask to cover the real excitement that one 
 in her position must have felt. Her aspect of horror 
 at the disclosure that I was La Tournoire ? This may 
 have been real, coming from a fear that she might 
 have betrayed herself by the curiosity she had 
 shown about me, that the eyes of La Tournoire must 
 be keener than those of the light-hearted man she 
 had taken me to be, that I had dissembled to her as 
 well as to De Berquin, that I had been playing with 
 her from the first. After she knew me to be La 
 Tournoire, and was assured that I did not suspect 
 her, she no more spoke of my going from her. 
 What was her weakness of body at Maury but 
 a pretext for delay, that the governor might have 
 time to come to Clochonne and the project of the am-
 
 37 AW ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 bush be carried out ? She had forged chains of love 
 to hold me where she was. Her coyness but kept 
 those chains the stronger, her postponement of the 
 surrender made it the more impossible for me to 
 leave her side. Who can go from the woman he 
 loves while his fate is uncertain ? If she had made 
 no show of love, I could have left her. If she had 
 confessed her love in words, and promised to be my 
 own, I could have endured to leave her for a time. 
 How well she knew men ! How well she had main 
 tained just that appearance which kept my thoughts 
 on her night and day, which made me unwilling to 
 lose sight of her, and which would have made me 
 instantly responsive to any summons that she might 
 have sent me from any part of the forest ! 
 
 So, then, there were two sides, two appearances, 
 to this woman. The one, the good side, that which 
 I had seen, that which had been the joy of my life, 
 was not real, was but a seeming, had no existence 
 but in pretence. The other, the wicked side, was 
 the real one, was the actual woman. I had never 
 known her. What I had known was but an assump 
 tion ; it had no being. Was this credible ? Could 
 a bad woman so delude one with an angelic pretence, 
 so conceal her wicked self ? If so, to what depths 
 of vileness might she not be capable of descending ? 
 Was it, then, not that I had lost my beloved, but 
 that she had never existed ? At thought of it, I
 
 TO CLOCHONNEl 
 
 felt a sickness within, a weakness, a choking, a 
 giving way. And then her image came before me 
 again, as she had stood in the moonlit garden, and 
 my beloved was born again. The woman I had 
 known was the real one. I had done her incredible 
 wrong to have thought otherwise. But whether 
 good or bad, whether or not my betrayer, I loved 
 her ; I longed for her ; I would see her face ; I 
 would clasp her in my arms ; I would claim her 
 as my own ; I would hold her against her own will 
 and the world's. On, my horse, on ! Where is she 
 now, what has befallen her, how soon shall my heart 
 bound at sight of her before me in the night ? On ! 
 Whether she lead me to heaven or to hell, I must 
 be with her ; I cannot wait ! 
 
 Presently we came to the abode of Godeau and 
 Marianne, where the forest path runs into . the old 
 road across the mountains. We had to clieck our 
 speed here, on account of the thick growth of vege 
 tation that served to mask the forest path from 
 travellers on the road. We emerged from this, 
 and turned the heads of our horses towards Clo- 
 chonne. 
 
 The door of the inn opened, and Marianne came 
 forth. She had been watching. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said, " I did not know whether 
 to come to you or not. I have been keeping my 
 eyes and ears open for any of the governor's troops."
 
 3/3 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " But you have seen or heard none," I answered, 
 impatiently. 
 
 "None, monsieur. But some one has ridden by, 
 towards Clochonne the lady ! " 
 
 I knew from her tone that she saw in Mademoi 
 selle's flight alone sufficient reason for suspicion of 
 mademoiselle and for alarm on my own part. She, 
 too, thought mademoiselle guilty, myself duped. I 
 first thought to pretend that mademoiselle's depar 
 ture was a thing agreed on by her and me, but it 
 was no time to value the opinion of a peasant. 
 
 "On, Frojac ! " I said, and on we went. We 
 could make better speed now, for the road, though 
 little used and in bad condition, was continuous and, 
 unlike the forest path, comparatively free of intru 
 sive vegetation. It was hard, too, for the weather 
 had been dry for a long time. The loud clatter of 
 the horses' hoofs was some relief to my eager 
 heart. 
 
 There is a place where this road passes near the 
 verge of a precipice, which, like that at Maury, falls 
 sheer to the road along the River Creuse from Clo 
 chonne to Narjec. But, unlike that at Maury, this 
 declivity is bare of trees. 
 
 We were galloping steadily on and were approach 
 ing this place in the road. Frojac was now riding 
 at my side, as there was room for two horsemen to 
 go abreast.
 
 TO CLOCHONNE! 373 
 
 " Hark ! " said Frojac, suddenly. " Do you hear 
 something ? " 
 
 I heard the sounds made by our riding, but no 
 other. 
 
 "Horsemen," he went on. -"And men afoot, on 
 the march ! " 
 
 " Where ? " I asked. We continued to gallop for 
 ward. 
 
 " Ahead," he answered. " Don't you hear, mon 
 sieur ? " 
 
 I listened. Yes, there was the far-off sound of 
 many shod feet striking hard earth. 
 
 "It is ahead," said I. 
 
 " A body of troops," said Frojac. 
 
 "Then we may catch up with them." 
 
 "Or meet them. Perhaps they are coming this 
 way." 
 
 " Troops on- a night march ! " said I. 
 
 Frojac looked at me. I saw written on his face 
 the same thought that he saw on mine. 
 
 " Whose else could they be ? " he said. " And 
 for what other purpose ? " 
 
 Had Monsieur de la Chatre, then, chosen this 
 night for a surprise and attack on me at Maury ? 
 If he knew my hiding-place, why should he not have 
 done so ? The idea of the ambush, then, had been 
 abandoned ? Perhaps, indeed, the plan that I had 
 overheard Montignac outline to La Chatre had been
 
 3/4 AM ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 greatly modified. Had mademoiselle, if she were 
 in truth the governor's agent, known of this night 
 attack, if it were in truth a night attack against 
 me ? Had she fled in order to avoid the shame 
 or the danger of being present at my capture ? 
 These and many other questions rushed through my 
 mind. 
 
 "What shall we do?" asked Frojac, after a time. 
 
 " Go on," said I. 
 
 "But if we meet them, and they are La Chatre's 
 men, I fear that our chances of catching up with the 
 lady will be small." 
 
 " But, after all, we do not know who they are. If 
 they are coming this way, they must have met her 
 by this time. Perhaps they have stopped her ? Who 
 knows ? I must follow her." 
 
 "But now it seems that the sound comes more 
 from the north. They are certainly coming nearer. 
 They may be on the river road. We can see by 
 going to the edge of the precipice and looking down." 
 
 "We should lose time." 
 
 " 'Tis but a little way out of the road. This is 
 where the road is nearest to the edge." 
 
 It might, indeed, be to my advantage to learn at 
 once whether the troops were in the road in front of 
 us or in the road at the foot of the mountain. So I 
 fought down my impatience, and we turned from the 
 road towards the precipice. There was little under-
 
 TO CLOCHONNE I 375 
 
 brush here to hinder us, and in a very short time we 
 reined in our horses and looked down on the vast 
 stretch of moonlit country below. 
 
 At the very foot of the steep was the road that 
 runs from Clochonne to Narjec. And there, moving 
 from the former towards the latter, went a troop of 
 horsemen, followed by a foot company of arquebusi- 
 ers. They trailed along, like a huge dark worm on 
 the yellow way, following the turns of the road. 
 Seen from above, their figures were shortened and 
 looked squat. 
 
 I looked among the horsemen. 
 
 " I cannot see La Chatre," said I. 
 
 "But some of these are his men," said Frojac, 
 "for I see my old comrade. He knew nothing to 
 day of this march. I see most of the men of the 
 Clochonne garrison. I wonder what use they expect 
 to make of their horses if they intend to approach 
 Maury from the river road." 
 
 I recalled now the exact words in which I had 
 indicated to mademoiselle the location of my hiding- 
 place. I had said that it might be reached by turn 
 ing up the wooded hill from the river road, at the 
 rock shaped like a throne. Was it, indeed, in .ac 
 cordance with directions communicated to La Chatre 
 by her that they were now proceeding ? 
 
 " If they are bound for Maury," said I, "they have 
 hit on a good time. Blaise and the men will have left
 
 3/6 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 there long before they arrive. Come, Frojac, we lose 
 precious minutes ! " 
 
 " One thing is good, monsieur," said Frojac, as 
 our horses resumed their gallop towards Clochonne. 
 " If we do have to follow the lady all the way to 
 Clochonne, we shall not find many soldiers there 
 when we arrive. Nearly all of La Chatre's men and 
 the garrison troops are down there on the river road, 
 marching further from Clochonne every minute." 
 
 Alas, it was not then of troops to be encountered 
 that I thought ! It was of what disclosure might 
 be awaiting me concerning mademoiselle. Would 
 she admit her guilt or demonstrate her innocence? 
 Would she prove to be that other woman, or the 
 one I had known ? Would she laugh or weep, be 
 brazen or overwhelmed ? How would she face me ? 
 That was my only thought. Let me dare death a 
 thousand times over, only to know the truth, nay, 
 only to see her again ! 
 
 So we sped forward on the road, which, by its 
 length and its windings, makes a gradual descent of 
 the northern slope of the wooded ridge. At last we 
 came to the foot of the steep, emerged from the for 
 est, turned northward, and then saw before us, a little 
 to the right, the sleeping town of Clochonne. At 
 the further end of that, on an eminence commanding 
 the river, stood the chateau, looking inaccessible and 
 impregnable.
 
 TO CLOCHONNE! 377 
 
 I thought of the day when I had first seen the 
 chateau, the day when we had come over the moun 
 tains from the south, and Frojac had pointed out to 
 me where it stood in the distance. That was before 
 I had met mademoiselle or knew that she was in 
 the world. Little had I thought that ever I should 
 be hastening madly towards that chateau in the 
 night on such an errand or in such turmoil of 
 heart ! 
 
 We came to the point where the road by which 
 we had come converges with two others. One of 
 these, joining from the right, also comes from the 
 south, and is, in fact, the new road across the moun 
 tains. The other, joining from the left, is the road 
 from Narjec, the one which runs along the river 
 and the base of the hills. It is this one which passes 
 the throne-shaped rock beneath Maury, and on which 
 we had seen the troops. Had we, coming from the 
 mountains, reached this spot before the troops com 
 ing from Clochonne reached it, we should have met 
 them ; but they had passed this spot long before we 
 had seen them from the height. 
 
 Blaise and the men, whom I had ordered to follow 
 me, would have left Maury soon after I had. Cer 
 tainly they would not be there when the governor's 
 troops should arrive. Coming by the road that I 
 had used, Blaise would not meet the governor's men 
 on their way to Maury. But the road by the river
 
 3/8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 was much the shorter. The governor's men, on 
 discovering Maury deserted, might return immedi 
 ately to Clochonne. They might reach this spot 
 before Blaise's men did, or about the same time. 
 Then there would be fighting. 
 
 These thoughts came into my mind at sight of 
 the converging roads, not as matters of concern to 
 me, but as mere casual observations. There was 
 matter of greater moment to claim my anxiety. As 
 to what might be the end of this night, as to what 
 might occur after my meeting with mademoiselle, as 
 to what might befall Blaise and my men, I had no 
 thought. 
 
 And now, turning slightly northeastward, the road 
 lay straight before us, between the town wall and 
 the river, up an incline, to the gate of the chateau. 
 This gate opens directly from the courtyard of 
 the chateau to the road outside the town wall. The 
 chateau has a gate elsewhere, which opens to the 
 town, within the town wall. 
 
 The road ascended straight before us, I say, and 
 on that road, making for the chateau gate, was a 
 horse, and on the horse a woman. She leaned for 
 ward, urging the horse on. Over her shoulders was 
 a mantle, a small cap was on her head. Her hair 
 streamed out behind her as she rode. My heart 
 gave a great bound. 
 
 " Look, Frojac ! It is she ! "
 
 TO CLOCHONNE. 379 
 
 " We cannot catch her. She is too near the 
 chateau." 
 
 " She will be detained at the gate." 
 
 "If she is the governor's agent, she will know 
 what word to give the guards. They will have 
 orders to admit her, day or night. One who goes 
 on such business may be expected at any hour." 
 
 The manner of her reception at the gate, then, 
 would disclose the truth. If she were admitted 
 without -parley, it would be evident that she was in 
 the governor's service. My heart sank. Those who 
 ride so fast towards closed gates, at such an hour, 
 expect the gates to let them in. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " I called. 
 
 But my voice was hoarse. I had no command 
 over it. I could not give it volume. She made no 
 sign. It was evident that she had not heard it. 
 She did not seem to know that she was pursued. 
 She did not look back. Was she so absorbed in her 
 own thoughts, in her desire to reach her destination, 
 that she was conscious of nothing else ? 
 
 Frojac was right. She was already too near the 
 chateau for us to overtake her before she arrived at 
 the gate. We could but force our panting horses to 
 their best, and keep our eyes on her. The moon 
 was now in the west, and there was no object on 
 the western side of the road to make a shadow. So 
 we did not once lose sight of her. She approached
 
 3&0 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the chateau gate without diminution of speed ; it 
 looked as if she heeded it not, or expected the horse 
 to leap it. 
 
 " Even if they do admit her promptly," said I, " it 
 will take a little time to lower the bridge over the 
 ditch. We may then come up to her." 
 
 "Can you not see?" said Frojac. "The bridge is 
 already down." 
 
 So it was. The troops had, doubtless, departed by 
 this gate ; the bridge, let down for their departure, 
 was still down, doubtless for their return. The 
 guards left at the chateau were, certainly, on the 
 alert for this return. In the event of any hostile 
 force appearing in the meantime, they could raise 
 the bridge ; but such an event was most unlikely. 
 The only hostile force in the vicinity was my own 
 company. It is thus that I accounted for the fact 
 that the bridge was down. 
 
 Right up to the gate she rode, the horse coming 
 to a quick stop on the bridge at the moment when it 
 looked as if he were about to dash his head against 
 the gate. 
 
 With straining ears I listened, as I rode on towards 
 her. 
 
 She called out. I could hear her voice, but could 
 not make out her words. For some time she sat on 
 her horse waiting, watching the gate before her. I 
 was surprised that she did not hear the clatter of our
 
 TO CLOCHONNEl 381 
 
 horses and look around. Then she called again. I 
 heard an answer from the other side of the gate, and 
 then the way was opened. She rode at once into 
 the courtyard. 
 
 We pressed on, Frojac and I, myself knowing not 
 what was to come, he content to follow me and face 
 whatever might arise. The immediate thing was to 
 reach the chateau, as mademoiselle had done. Some 
 means must be found for getting entrance, for now 
 that mademoiselle was inside, I looked to see the 
 gate fall into place at once. 
 
 But we beheld the unexpected. The gate re 
 mained open. No guard appeared in the opening. 
 We galloped up the hill, over the bridge, into the 
 courtyard. Nothing hindered us. What did it 
 mean ? 
 
 We stopped our horses and dismounted. There 
 in the courtyard stood mademoiselle's horse, tremb 
 ling and panting, but mademoiselle herself had dis 
 appeared. Before us was an open door, doubtless 
 the principal entrance to the chateau. Mademoi 
 selle had probably gone that way. 
 
 " Come, Frojac ! " said I, and started for this 
 door. 
 
 But at that instant we heard rough exclamations 
 and hasty steps behind us. We turned and drew 
 sword. From the guard-house by the gate, where 
 they must have been gambling or drinking or sleep-
 
 382 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 ing, or otherwise neglecting their duty, came four 
 men, who seemed utterly astonished at sight of us. 
 
 "Name of the Virgin!" cried one. "The gate 
 open ! Where is Lavigue ? He has left his post ! 
 Who are you ? " 
 
 " Enemies ! Down with La Chatre ! " I answered, 
 seeing in a flash that an attempt to fool them might 
 be vain and would take time. A quick fight was 
 the thing to serve me best, for these men had been 
 taken by surprise, and two of them had only hal 
 berds, one had a sword, the fourth had an arquebus 
 but his match was out. 
 
 . It was the man with the sword who had spoken. 
 He it was who now spoke again : 
 
 " Enemies ? Prisoners, then ! Yield ! " 
 
 And he rushed up to us, accompanied by the hal 
 berdiers, while the arquebusier ran to light his match 
 at a torch in the guard-house. 
 
 Never was anything so expeditiously done. The 
 leader knew nothing of fine sword work. I had my 
 point through his lungs before the halberdiers came 
 up. While I was pulling it out, one of the halber 
 diers aimed a blow at me, and the other threatened 
 Frojac. My follower dodged the thrust meant for 
 him, and at the same instant laid low, with a wound 
 in the side, the fellow who was aiming at me. Thus 
 one of the halberdiers followed the swordsman to 
 earth instantly. The second halberdier recovered
 
 TO CLOCHONNE! 383 
 
 himself, and made to attack Frojac again, but I 
 caught his weapon in my left hand, and so held it, 
 while Frojac ran towards the arquebusier, who was 
 now coming from the guard-house with lighted 
 match. The halberdier, whose weapon I now 
 grasped in one hand, while I held my sword in 
 the other, took fright, let his weapon go, and ran 
 from the courtyard through the open gateway. 
 The arquebusier tried to bring his weapon to bear 
 on Frojac, but Frojac dropped on his knees and, 
 thrusting from below, ran his sword into the man's 
 belly. The man fell with a groan, dropping his 
 weapon and his match. 
 
 . I looked around. The courtyard was empty. 
 Were these four, then, the only soldiers that had 
 been left to guard the chateau ? No, for these four 
 had been surprised to find the gate open. Some 
 one else must have opened the gate for mademoi 
 selle. Moreover, the swordsman had spoken of a 
 Lavigue. "Take the arquebus and the match, 
 Frojac," said I, "and come. There is nothing to be 
 done here at present." 
 
 He obeyed me, and we returned to the door of 
 the chateau. Just as we were about to enter, I 
 heard steps as of one coming down a staircase within. 
 Then a man came out. He was a common soldier 
 and he carried a halberd. At sight of us he stopped, 
 and stood in the greatest astonishment. Then he
 
 384 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 looked towards the gate. His expression became 
 one of the utmost consternation. 
 
 A thought came to me. I recalled what the 
 swordsman said. 
 
 " You are Lavigue ? " said I to the soldier. 
 
 " Yes," he said, bewildered. 
 
 "You were on duty at that gate, but you left 
 your post." 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 "But you first opened the gate for a lady." 
 
 " It was not I, monsieur," he answered, as if anx 
 ious to exonerate himself, although he knew not to 
 whom he was talking. " It was my comrade. He 
 said he knew the woman, and that the governor 
 would wish her instantly admitted, and he opened 
 the gate. When she came in, I would have had her 
 wait at the gate till M. de la Chatre had been in 
 formed, but she ran into the chateau, and my com 
 rade with her. There must be something wrong, 
 I thought, if my comrade would leave his post to 
 go in with the lady. So I ran after them to get her 
 to come back. It was my thought of my duty that 
 made me forget the gate. Indeed it was so, mon 
 sieur." 
 
 He evidently thought that we were friends of 
 the governor's who had happened to arrive at the 
 chateau at this hour. 
 
 So he, at least, had not received orders to admit
 
 TO CLOCHONNE! 385 
 
 mademoiselle. Joyful hope! Perhaps there had 
 been no understanding between her and the gov 
 ernor, after all ! But his comrade had let her in, had 
 said that the governor would wish the gate opened 
 to her at once. Then there was an understanding. 
 
 "Where is your comrade ? " I asked. 
 
 " I left him with the lady, in the chamber at the 
 head of the staircase. Ah, I hear him coming down 
 the stairs ! " 
 
 " Look to this man, Frojac," said I, and then 
 hastened into the chtaeau. The moonlight through 
 the open door showed a large vestibule, from which 
 the staircase ascended towards the right. The man 
 coming down this staircase was at the bottom step 
 when I entered the vestibule. He stopped there, 
 taken by surprise. I saw that he was of short 
 stature and slight figure. I caught him by the back 
 of the neck with my left hand, and brought him to 
 his knees before me. 
 
 "Where is the lady who but now entered the 
 chateau?" I said. "Why are you silent, knave?" 
 
 He trembled in my grasp, and I turned his face 
 up towards mine. It was the face of mademoiselle's 
 boy, Pierre, who had left us in the forest ! 
 
 " You here ? " I cried. " It was you, then, who 
 opened the gate to her ! How came you here ? 
 Speak, if ever you would see the blue sky again ! " 
 
 I pressed my fingers into his throat, until he
 
 386 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 choked and the fear of death showed in his starting 
 eyes ; then I released my clasp, that he might 
 speak. 
 
 " Oh, monsieur, have mercy ! " he gasped. " Do 
 not kill me ! " 
 
 I saw that he was thoroughly frightened for his 
 life. He was but a boy, and to a boy the imminent 
 prospect of closing one's eyes forever is not pleasant. 
 
 " Speak, then ! Tell the truth ! " I said, still hold 
 ing him by the neck, ready to tighten my clasp at 
 any moment. 
 
 " I will, I will ! " he said. " I went from Mile, de 
 Varion to M. de la Chatre, with a message, and he 
 kept me in his service." 
 
 " What message ? The truth, boy ! I shall see in 
 your eyes whether or not it be truth you tell me, 
 and if you lie your eyes shall never look on the 
 world again. Quick, what message ? " 
 
 " That I came from Mile, de Varion to the gov 
 ernor," he answered, huskily, " and that at the top 
 of the hill that rises from the throne-shaped rock 
 by the river road to Narjec is the burrow of the 
 Huguenot fox ! " 
 
 The last doubt, the last hope, was gone ! 
 
 " My God ! " I cried, and cast the boy away from 
 me. What now to me was he or anything that he 
 might do or say ? He cowered for a moment on 
 the ground, looking up at me, and then, seeing
 
 TO CLOCHONNE! 387 
 
 that I no longer heeded him, ran out to the court 
 yard. 
 
 For a moment I stood alone in the vestibule, 
 crushed by the terrible certainty. All women, then, 
 were as bad as Mile. d'Arency. The sweet and 
 tender girl who had filled my heart was as the 
 worst of them. To be betrayed was deplorable, but 
 to be betrayed by her ! To find her a traitress was 
 terrible, but that I should be her dupe ! And that 
 I should still love her, love her, love her ! 
 
 What, she was in the chateau, under this roof, 
 and I tarried here deploring her treason when I 
 might be at her side, clasping her, looking into her 
 eyes ! " In the chamber at the head of the stair 
 case," the guard had said. I forgot Frojac, the 
 guard, Pierre. But one thought, one desire, one 
 impulse, possessed me. With my dripping sword 
 in my hand, I bounded up the stairs. They led 
 me to a narrow gallery, which had windows on the 
 side next the courtyard. There were doors on the 
 other side. A single light burned. No one was 
 in the gallery. The door nearest the staircase land 
 ing was slightly open. I ran to it and into the 
 chamber to which it gave entrance. 
 
 As in the . gallery, so in the chamber, I found 
 no one. I stood just within the threshold and 
 looked around. The walls of the apartment were 
 hung with tapestry. At the right was first a win-
 
 388 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 dow, then a chimney-place, beside which stood a 
 sword, then a prieu-dieu. Before the fireplace was 
 a table, on which were a lamp burning, paper, ink, 
 pens, and a large bowl of fruit. At the left of the 
 chamber was a large bed, its curtains drawn aside. 
 Beside this was another table, on which was an 
 empty tray. There was a door, slightly ajar, in 
 that side of the room, and another in the side that 
 faced me. On the back of a chair near the fire 
 place was slung a hunting-horn. On a stool near 
 the door by which I had entered lay a belt with a 
 dagger in sheath. The bed looked as if some one 
 had recently lain on it. The presence of the fruit, 
 writing materials, and other things seemed to in 
 dicate that this was the chamber of M. de la 
 Chatre. But why was he not in his bed ? Probably 
 he could not sleep while he awaited the result of 
 this midnight enterprise of his troops. Certainly 
 the servants in the chateau were asleep. It was 
 apparent that the six guards, four of whom we 
 had disposed of, were the only soldiers left at the 
 chateau, for, if there had been any others in the 
 guard-house, they would have been awakened by 
 the fight in the courtyard. How many troops were 
 left in the town, I could not know, but they would 
 not come to the chateau during the night unless 
 brought by an alarm. So there would not be many 
 to interpose themselves between mademoiselle and
 
 TO CLOCHONNEl 
 
 me. But where was she? Whither should I first 
 turn to seek her. 
 
 I had well-nigh chosen to try the room at the 
 left, when the door opposite me opened without 
 noise, and a figure glided into the chamber, swiftly 
 and silently. The movement was that of a person 
 who rapidly traverses a place in search of some one. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 She heard me, saw me, stopped, and stood with 
 parted lips, astounded face, and terror-stricken eyes. 
 
 So we stood, the width of the room between us, 
 regarding each other.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 
 
 So we stood. Irresistible as had been my impulse 
 to follow her, I now found myself held back, as if by 
 the look in her eyes, from approaching nearer. So, 
 while she gazed at me in wonder and terror, I re 
 garded her with inexpressible scorn and love, horror 
 and adoration. 
 
 Presently she spoke, in a terrified whisper : 
 
 " Why are you here ? " 
 
 I answered in a low voice : 
 
 " Because you are here. Like a poisonous flower 
 you lure me. A flower you are in outward beauty ! 
 Never was poison more sweetly concealed than is 
 treachery in you ! " 
 
 " You were mad to follow me ! " she said, and then 
 she cast a quick, apprehensive glance around the 
 chamber, a glance that took in the different doors 
 one after another. 
 
 I thought she meant that, as we were in the 
 stronghold of my enemies and her friends, it would 
 be madness in me to attempt to punish her treach 
 ery. So I replied : 
 
 39
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 39! 
 
 " Seek not to fright me from vengeance, for I 
 intend none ! I did not come to punish. I do not 
 know why it is, but where you are not I cannot rest. 
 I am drawn to you as by some power of magic. I 
 would be with you even in hell ! Spy, traitress 'that 
 you are, I love you ! Your dupe that I am, I love 
 you ! " I went to where, with downcast eyes, she 
 stood, and I caught her hand and pressed it to 
 my lips. "I make myself a jest, a thing for 
 laughter, do I not, kissing the hand that would slay 
 me?" 
 
 She raised her eyes, and held out her hand towards 
 the fire-place, saying : 
 
 " The hand that I would thrust into the flame to 
 save you from the lightest harm ! " 
 
 What ? Now that I was here, now that my cap 
 ture seemed certain, would she pretend that she had 
 not acted for La Chatre against me ? She did not 
 know that I had met Pierre, and what he had con 
 fessed to me. 
 
 " Mock me as you will, mademoiselle ! " said I. 
 
 " Mistrust me as you will, monsieur ! I tell you, 
 I would not have you undergo the smallest harm ! " 
 
 " You well sustain the jest ! " 
 
 " Before God," she answered, " I do not jest ! " 
 
 There was in her voice a ring of earnestness that 
 seemed impossible to be counterfeit. Puzzled, I looked 
 at her, trying to read her countenance.
 
 392 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "Yet," I said, presently, "you were a spy upon 
 me!" 
 
 " I was, God pity me ! Scourge me with rough 
 words as you will ; I merit every blow ! " 
 
 "And you came here to see La Chatre," I went 
 on, " perhaps because you feared discovery, perhaps 
 because you thought your work of betrayal was done " 
 (for I thought that she may have known of the mid 
 night march of the governor's troops), " perhaps to 
 finish that work ! " 
 
 " Now you wrong me at last ! " she cried. " Thank 
 God, I am not as bad as you can think me ! " 
 
 " Then you did not come here to see La Chatre ? " 
 
 " I came to see him, I admit ! I was seeking him 
 when I met you here. But it was not because I feared 
 discovery that I left you, nor because I thought my 
 miserable work was done, nor to finish it." 
 
 I saw now that she was in great agitation. She 
 tottered forward to the table and put her hand on it, 
 and leaned on it for support. 
 
 It seemed as if she were speaking the truth, as if 
 there might be some explanation of all, but that her 
 inward excitement was too great, her ideas too con 
 fused, for her to assemble the facts and present them 
 in proper order. It seemed that she could answer 
 my accusations only as they came, that she acknowl 
 edged herself guilty in part towards me, and yet did 
 not wish me harm.
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 393 
 
 "Mademoiselle," I said, dropping my harshness 
 and irony, " to believe you true would make me as 
 happy as I now am wretched. But why is your boy 
 here, in the governor's service ? Why did he carry 
 from you the secret of my hiding-place ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle shuddered and gave a gesture of 
 despair, as if there were indeed no defence for 
 her. 
 
 "Why are the troops away, if not in quest of 
 me?" I asked. "We saw them going towards Maury 
 by the river road." 
 
 " I did not know that the troops had gone, or 
 were going," she said. " I swear to you, monsieur, 
 if troops have gone to Maury this night, I had noth 
 ing to do with their going ! " 
 
 "But they knew what road to take, and how to 
 find my hiding-place. La Chatre knew that." 
 
 " Alas, it is true ! " she moaned, while tears ran 
 down her face. " I sent him word ! " 
 
 " You sent him word ! You learned how to reach 
 La Tournoire's hiding-place from the man you thought 
 his friend, and you sent the secret to the governor, 
 whom you knew to be his enemy ? And yet you are 
 not as bad as I can think you ! " 
 
 " I sent him word of your hiding-place ; but he 
 was not to seize you till I had arranged a meeting 
 with you alone and informed him of it ! " 
 
 " You confess this ! Oh, mademoiselle ! "
 
 394 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Consider ! Did I arrange that meeting ? " 
 
 "You had not time. It was but this afternoon 
 you learned La Chatre was at Clochonne." 
 
 "Yet, instead of coming here to-night I might 
 have done it, monsieur. I ran no risk of discovery 
 in staying at Maury. You would still have had 
 faith in me had I remained there. And it was easy 
 to do ; it was all planned. You know the old tower 
 by the spring, to which we walked the other day. I 
 was to send Hugo at midnight to M. de la Chatre, 
 with word to have his men hidden there to-morrow 
 at sunset. To-morrow I was to go off into the forest 
 with Jeannotte, and at sunset she was to come to 
 you, saying that I was at the tower grievously in 
 jured. You would have gone, monsieur, without 
 waiting to call any of your men ; you would have 
 come at my summons on the instant, to the end of 
 the world " 
 
 " You knew that ? Truly, the heart of man is an 
 open page to women ! " 
 
 "It was easily to be done, monsieur. Hugo could 
 have shown the troops the way. The place was well 
 chosen. Neither your sentinels nor the inn people 
 would have seen the troops. They would have hid 
 den there in wait for you. So we had planned it, 
 I and Jeannotte ; but I abandoned it. I gave no 
 orders to Hugo. I came to Clochonne." 
 
 " Yes, knowing, perchance, that I would come
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 395 
 
 after you. You thought to make of Clochonne a 
 trap into which to lead me ! You were careful to 
 let it be known where you were coming, that I might 
 find out and follow ! " 
 
 " I told only my maid and Hugo, in a moment of 
 excitement, when I scarce knew what I said. I no 
 more desired you to follow than I desired myself to 
 stay at Maury to call you to the ambush ! " 
 
 "The ambush!" I echoed. "You forget one 
 thing, mademoiselle, when you take credit for re 
 nouncing the ambush. The troops have gone already 
 to Maury. Had they found me there, they would 
 have made your ambush unnecessary or impossible." 
 
 " But I knew nothing of their going to Maury," 
 she said, helplessly. " It was not to have been so. 
 You were to have been taken by an ambush, I say ! 
 If the governor sent troops to attack you to-night, 
 he must have changed the plan." 
 
 Now, I could indeed believe this, for I had over 
 heard the plan suggested by Montignac, and her 
 very talk about the ambush seemed to show that his 
 plan had been adopted without change. In that case, 
 she might not have known of the movement of the 
 troops. La Chatre might have decided, at any time, 
 to change his plan. Perhaps he had done this, and, 
 for lack of means or for some other reason, had not 
 tried to inform her, or had tried in vain. 
 
 She stood like an accused woman before her
 
 396 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 judges, incapable of formulating her defence, ex 
 pressing her distress by an occasional low, convul 
 sive sob. What did her conduct mean ? Was her 
 demeanor genuine or assumed ? Why did she confess 
 one thing 'and deny another? Why did she seem 
 guilty and not guilty ? 
 
 " I am puzzled more and more," I said. " I 
 thought that, when I saw you, I should at least learn 
 the truth. I should at least know whether to love 
 you as an angel, who had been wronged alike by 
 circumstances and by report, or as a beautiful demon, 
 who would betray me to my death ; but I am not 
 even to know what you are. You betrayed my 
 hiding-place. So far, at least, you are guilty ; but 
 you did not arrange the ambush that you were to 
 have arranged. For so much you claim credit. 
 Whatever are your wishes in regard to me, they 
 shall be fulfilled. I am yours, to be sent to my 
 death, if that is your will. What would you have 
 me do?" 
 
 " Save yourself ! " she whispered, eagerly, her eyes 
 suddenly aflame with a kind of hope, as if the possi 
 bility had just occurred to her. 
 
 Was this pretence ? Did she know that I could 
 not escape, and did she yet wish, for shame's or 
 vanity's sake, to appear well in my eyes ? 
 
 " I shall not leave you," I said, quietly. 
 
 " Hark ! " she whispered. " Some one comes ! "
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 
 
 She looked towards the door near the head of the 
 bed, the door that was slightly ajar. She looked 
 aghast, as one does at the apprehension of a great 
 and imminent danger. " Go while there is time ! 
 Do you not hear ? It is the voice of La Chatre ! 
 I recognize it ! And the other, his secretary, 
 Montignac ! Go, go, I pray you on my knees, flee 
 while there is yet time ! " 
 
 She did indeed fall to her knees, clutching my 
 arm with one hand, and with the other trying to 
 push me from the room, all the while showing a very 
 anguish of solicitude on her white face. Her eyes 
 plead with me for my own deliverance. The voices, 
 which I too recognized, came nearer and nearer, but 
 slowly, as if the speakers were impeded in their prog 
 ress through the adjoining chamber. " Save your 
 self, save yourself ! " she continued to whisper. 
 
 "Come what may," I whispered in reply, my 
 hand tightening on my sword, " I will not leave 
 you!" 
 
 "Then," she whispered, rapidly, seeing that I was 
 not to be moved, "if you will court death, at least 
 know me first as I am, no better, no worse! Hide 
 somewhere, there behind the bed-curtains, and 
 hear what I shall say to La Chatre ! After that, if 
 death find you, he shall find me with you ! I implore 
 you, conceal yourself." 
 
 There was no pretence now, I was sure. Mysti-
 
 398 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 fied, yet not doubting, I whispered : " I yield, made 
 moiselle ! God knows I would believe you innocent ! " 
 and went behind the curtains, at the foot of the bed. 
 It was easy to stand behind th.ese without disturbing 
 the natural folds in which they fell to the floor. The 
 curtains at the sides also served to shield me from 
 view, so that I could not have been seen except from 
 within the bed itself. 
 
 I had no sooner found this concealment, and made 
 moiselle had no sooner taken her place, standing with 
 as much composure as she could assume, a short dis 
 tance from the foot of the bed, than M. de la Chatre 
 and his secretary entered the chamber. Peering be 
 tween the curtains, I saw that La Chatre was lame, 
 and that he walked with the aid of a stick on one 
 side and Montignac's shoulder on the other. 
 
 " To think," he was saying as he came in, " that 
 the misstep of a horse should have made a helpless 
 cripple of me, when I might have led this hunt 
 myself ! " 
 
 I assumed that the " hunt " was the expedition to 
 Maury, and smiled to think how far was the game 
 from the place of hunting. 
 
 The undisturbed mien of La Chatre showed that 
 he had not heard of the arrival of mademoiselle or 
 of myself, or of the brief fight in the courtyard. He 
 would not have worn that look of security had he 
 known that, of six guards at the chateau, three now
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 399 
 
 lay dead in the courtyard, one had fled, and two were 
 being looked after by my man Frojac. 
 
 He wore a rich chamber-robe and was bareheaded. 
 Montignac was attired rather like a soldier than like 
 a scribe, having on a buff jerkin and wearing both 
 sword and dagger. His breeches and hose were of 
 dull hue, so that the only brightness of color on him 
 was the red of his hair and lips. It was, doubtless, 
 from an excess of precaution that he went so well 
 armed in the chateau at so late an hour. Yet I 
 smiled to see- weapons on this slight and fragile-look 
 ing youth, whose strength lay in his brain rather than 
 in his wrist. With great interest I watched him now, 
 knowing that he had devised the plan for my cap 
 ture, had caused Mile, de Varion to be sent on her 
 mission against me, and had sent De Berquin on 
 his mission against her. This march of the troops 
 to Maury, also, was probably his doing, even though 
 it did imply a change from the plan overheard by 
 me, and confessed by mademoiselle. He had, too, 
 if De Berquin had told the truth, resolved to possess 
 mademoiselle. He was thus my worst foe, this subtle 
 youth who had never seen me, and whom I had never 
 injured. He still had that look of mock humility, 
 repressed scorn, half-concealed derision, hidden am 
 bition, vast inner resource, mental activity, all under 
 a calm and thoughtful countenance, over which he 
 had control.
 
 4OO AW ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 It was not until they had passed the bed that 
 they saw mademoiselle. Both stopped and looked 
 astonished. Montignac recognized her at once, and 
 first frowned, as if annoyed ; then looked elated, as 
 if her presence suited his projects. But La Chatre 
 did not immediately know her. He lost color, as 
 if it were a spirit that he saw, and, indeed, made 
 moiselle, motionless and pale, looked not unlike some 
 beautiful being of another world. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked La Chatre, in a startled 
 tone. 
 
 " It is I Mile, de Varion." 
 
 La Chatre promptly came to himself ; but he 
 looked somewhat confused, abashed, and irritated. 
 
 "Mile, de Varion, indeed! " he said. "And why 
 comes Mile, de Varion here ? " 
 
 And now Montignac spoke, fixing his eyes on La 
 
 i 
 Chatre, and using a quiet but resolute tone : 
 
 " She comes too late. La Tournoire will be taken 
 without her aid." 
 
 " Be silent, Montignac ! " said La Chatre, assum 
 ing the authoritative for the sake of appearance. 
 " It is true, mademoiselle ; you are too late in ful 
 filling your part of the agreement." 
 
 He spoke with some embarrassment, and I began 
 to see why. Inasmuch as he had been at Clochonne 
 but little more than one day, no more time had 
 passed than would have been necessary for the
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 40 1 
 
 arrangement of the ambush. Therefore it could 
 not be honestly held that she had been tardy in 
 fulfilling her mission ; that is to say, when he told 
 her that she was too late, he lied. Hence his em 
 barrassment, for he was a gentleman. Now why 
 did he put forth this false pretext of tardiness on 
 her part ? 
 
 "Too late in fulfilling your part of the agree 
 ment," said the governor. 
 
 " I came, monsieur," said mademoiselle, heedless 
 of the lie and the apparent attempt to put her at 
 fault, " to be released from my agreement." 
 
 Montignac looked surprised, then displeased. La 
 Chatre appeared relieved, but astonished. 
 
 "Released, mademoiselle?" he exclaimed, assum 
 ing too late a kind of virtuous displeasure to cover 
 his real satisfaction. 
 
 " Released, monsieur ! " said mademoiselle. " I 
 shall no further help you take M. de la Tournoire. 
 It was to tell you that, and for nothing else in the 
 world, that I came to Clochonne this night ! " 
 
 She was close to the bed-curtains behind which 
 I stood. I felt that her words were meant for my 
 ears as well as for the governor's. 
 
 " I shall not need your help, mademoiselle," re 
 plied the governor, with a side smile at Montignac. 
 " Yet this is strange. You do not, then, wish your 
 father's freedom ? "
 
 402 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " Not on the terms agreed on, monsieur ! Not 
 to have my father set free from prison, not even 
 to save him from torture, not even from death. 
 I take back my promise, and give you back your 
 own. I gave you word of La Tournoire's hiding- 
 place, and so far resigned my honor. I abandon 
 my hateful task unfinished, and so far I get my 
 honor back. And, now, do as you will ! " 
 
 I could have shouted for joy ! 
 
 This, then, explained it all. She had undertaken 
 to betray me, but it was to save her father ! I 
 remembered now. They had wanted a spy "who 
 would have all to lose by failure." Such were Mon- 
 tignac's words at the inn at Fleurier. A spy, too, 
 who might gain a wary man's confidence, and with 
 whom a rebel captain might desire or consent to 
 a meeting away from his men. Hardly had their 
 need been uttered when there came mademoiselle 
 to beg a pardon for her father. A woman, beautiful 
 and guileless, whom any man might adore and trust, 
 of whom any man might beg a tryst ; a woman, 
 whose father was already in prison, his fate at the 
 governor's will ; a woman, inexperienced and cred 
 ulous, easily made to believe that her father's crime 
 was of the gravest ; a woman, dutiful and affection 
 ate, willing to purchase her father's life and freedom 
 at any cost. What better instrument could have 
 come to their hands ? Her anxiety to save her
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 403 
 
 father would give her the powers of dissimulation 
 necessary to do the work. Her purity and inno 
 cence were a rare equipment for the task of a Deli 
 lah. Who would suspect her of guile and intrigue 
 any more than I had done ? 
 
 And now, having gone as far as she had in the 
 task, she had abandoned it. Even to save her 
 father, she would no more play the traitress against 
 me ! Against me ! She loved me, then ! Her task 
 had become intolerable. She must relieve herself 
 of it. Yet as long as La Chatre still supposed that 
 she was carrying it out, she would feel bound by 
 her obligation to him. She must free herself of that 
 obligation. She had made a compact with him, she 
 had given him her word. Though she resolved 
 not to betray me, she would not betray him either. 
 He must no longer rely on her for the performance 
 of a deed that she had cast from her. She must 
 not play false even with him. All must hereafter be 
 open and honest with her. The first step towards 
 regaining her self-respect was to see the governor 
 and renounce the commission. Then, but not till 
 then, would she dare confess all to me. I saw all 
 this in an instant, as she had felt it, for people do 
 not arrive at such resolutions slowly and by reason, 
 but instantly and by feeling. 
 
 And all that she had done and suffered had been 
 to save her father ! Had I but told her at once of
 
 404 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 my intention to deliver him, if possible, all this, and 
 my own hours of torment, might have been avoided. 
 From what little things do events take their course ! 
 
 I rejoiced, I say, behind the curtains, on learning 
 the truth. What matter if we met death together 
 in the enemy's stronghold, now that she was pure 
 and loved me ? And yet, if we could but find a way 
 out of this, and save her father as well, what joy life 
 would have ! 
 
 La Chatre cast another jubilant smile at Monti- 
 gnac. The governor was plainly delighted that made 
 moiselle herself had given up the task, now that he 
 had changed his plans and had no further use for 
 her in them. It relieved him of the disagreeable 
 necessity of making her an explanation composed of 
 lies. He was really a gallant and amiable gentle 
 man, and subterfuge, especially when employed 
 against a lady, was obnoxious to him. As for 
 Montignac, he stood frowning meditatively. He 
 surely guessed that mademoiselle's act was inspired 
 by love for me, and the thought was not pleasant to 
 him. 
 
 Suddenly the governor turned quite pale, and 
 asked quickly, in some alarm : 
 
 " Did you speak the trtith when you sent word of 
 his hiding-place ? " 
 
 It would, indeed, have been exasperating if he had 
 sent his troops on a false scent.
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 405 
 
 Mademoiselle hesitated a moment, then turned 
 her eyes towards the bed-curtains, and said : 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 Her look, as I saw it, expressed that my position 
 was not so bad, after all, as long as the troops were 
 away, and La Chatre supposed that I was at Maury 
 being captured by them. 
 
 La Chatre, reassured by her tone, which of course 
 had the ring of truth, again breathed freely. 
 
 "Then I release you from your agreement, made 
 moiselle," he said, and added slowly and with 'a 
 curious look at Montignac, "and your father may 
 languish in the chateau of Fleurier. But note this, 
 mademoiselle : you withdraw your aid from our 
 purpose of capturing this traitor. Therefore, you 
 wish him freedom. For you, in the circumstances, 
 not to oppose him is to aid him. That is treason. 
 I must treat you accordingly, mademoiselle." 
 
 " I have said, do with me as you will," she an 
 swered. For a time, relieved of the burden that 
 had weighed so heavily on her, she seemed resigned 
 to any fate. It was not yet that her mind rose to 
 activity, and she began to see possibilities of recov^ 
 ering something from the ruins. 
 
 And now the demeanor of La Chatre became 
 peculiar. He spoke to mademoiselle, while he 
 looked at Montignac, as if he were taking an un 
 expected opportunity to carry out something pre-
 
 406 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 arranged between him and the secretary ; as if he 
 were dissembling to her, and sought Montignac's 
 attention and approval. His look seemed to say 
 to the secretary, "You see how well I am doing 
 it ? " Montignac stood with folded arms and down 
 cast eyes, attending carefully to La Chatre's words, 
 but having too much tact to betray his interest. 
 
 "And yet," said La Chatre, "you have been of 
 some service to me in this matter, and I would in 
 some measure reward you. You sent me informa 
 tion of La Tournoire's whereabouts, and for so much 
 you deserve to be paid. But you leave unfinished 
 the service agreed on, and of course you cannot 
 claim your father's release." 
 
 " Yet, if I have at all served you in this, as unhap 
 pily I have, there is no other payment that you pos 
 sibly can make me," said mademoiselle. 
 
 "The question as to whether you ought to be 
 rewarded for what you have done, or held guilty of 
 treasonable conduct in withdrawing at so late a 
 stage," said La Chatre, "is a difficult matter for 
 me to deal with. There may be a way in which 
 it can be settled with satisfaction to yourself. It 
 is your part, not mine, to find such a way and pro 
 pose it. You may take counsel of some one of 
 my secretary, M. Montignac. He is one who, un 
 like yourself, is entitled to my favor and the King's, 
 and who may, on occasion, demand some deviation
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 4O/ 
 
 from the strict procedure of justice. Were he to 
 ask, as a favor to himself, special lenience for your 
 father, or even a pardon and release, his request 
 would have to be seriously considered. Advise her, 
 Montignac. I shall give you a few minutes to talk 
 with her." 
 
 And. La Chatre, aided by his stick, made his way 
 to the window, where he stood with his back towards 
 the other two. 
 
 I was not too dull to see that all this was but 
 a clumsy way of throwing mademoiselle's fate and 
 her father's into the hands of Montignac. The gov 
 ernor's manner, as I have indicated, showed that he 
 had previously agreed to do this on fit occasion, and 
 that he now perceived that occasion. 
 
 A new thought occurred to me. Had Montignac, 
 coming more and more to desire mademoiselle, and 
 doubting the ability of his hastily found instrument, 
 De Berquin, sought and obtained the governor's 
 sanction to his wishes ? Had he advised this mid 
 night march to Maury in order that I might be 
 caught ere mademoiselle could fulfil her mission ; 
 in order; that is to say, to prevent her from earning 
 her father's freedom by the means first proposed ; 
 in order that La Chatre might name a new price for 
 that freedom ; in order, in fine, that herself should 
 be the price, and Montignac the recipient ? Monti 
 gnac could persuade the governor to anything, why
 
 408 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 not to this ? It was a design worthy alike of the 
 secretary's ingenuity and villainy. Circumstance 
 soon showed that I was right, that the governor 
 had indeed consented to this perfidy. Mademoi 
 selle's unexpected arrival at Clochonne had given 
 excellent occasion for the project to be carried out. 
 The governor himself had recognized the fitness of 
 the time. No wonder that he had at first falsely 
 charged her with tardiness, pretended that her delay 
 had caused the alteration of his plans. He had 
 needed a pretext for having sent his troops to cap 
 ture me so that he might cheat her of her reward. 
 I burned with indignation. That two men of power 
 and authority should so trick a helpless girl, so use 
 her love for her father to serve their own purposes, 
 so employ that father's very life as coin with which 
 to buy her compliance, so cozen her of the reward of 
 what service she had done, so plot to make of her a 
 slave and worse, so threaten and use and cheat her ! 
 No man ever felt greater wrath than I felt as I stood 
 behind the curtains and saw Montignac lift his eyes 
 to mademoiselle's in obedience to the governor's 
 command. Yet, by what power I know no't, I held 
 myself calm, ready to act at the suitable moment. 
 I had taken a resolution, and would carry it out if 
 sword and wit should serve me. But meanwhile 
 I waited unseen. 
 
 Mademoiselle drew back almost imperceptibly,
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 409 
 
 and on her face came the slightest look of repug 
 nance. From her manner of regarding him, it was 
 evident that this was not the first time she had 
 been conscious of his admiration and felt repelled 
 by it. The meeting in the inn at Fleurier had 
 left with her a vastly different impression from 
 that which it had left with him. 
 
 Without smiling, he now bowed very courteously, 
 and placed a chair for her near where she stood. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he said, with great tenderness, 
 yet most respectfully, "a harder heart than mine 
 would be moved by your gentleness and beauty." 
 
 And here my own heart beat very rapidly at 
 sound of another man speaking so adoringly to my 
 beloved. 
 
 She looked at him questioningly, as if his tone 
 and manner showed that she had misjudged him. 
 His bearing was so gentle and sympathetic that 
 she could not but be deceived by it. She ceased 
 to show repugnance, and sat in the chair that he 
 had brought. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, "in my first opinion I may 
 have wronged you. If your heart is truly moved, 
 you can demonstrate your goodness by asking for 
 my father's freedom. M. de la Chatre will grant it 
 to you. You have a claim on his favor, as he says, 
 while I have none. Free my father, then, and make 
 me happy f" ,
 
 410 AN ENEMY TO THE KING, 
 
 Poor Julie ! She thought not of herself. She 
 knew that it would be useless to ask anything for 
 me. Yet there was one thing that might be had 
 from the situation her father's freedom. So she 
 summoned her energies, and devoted them to striv 
 ing for that, though she was in terror of my being 
 at any moment discovered. 
 
 " I would make you the happiest of women," said 
 Montignac, in a low, impassioned tone, falling on 
 one knee and taking her hand, " if you would make 
 me the happiest of men." 
 
 Apprehension came into her eyes. She rose and 
 moved towards the bed-curtains, and, in the vain 
 hope of turning him from his purpose by pretend 
 ing not to perceive it, said, with a sad little smile : 
 
 " Alas ! it is out of my poor power to confer 
 happiness ! " 
 
 She half-turned her head towards where I stood 
 behind the curtains, partly at thought of the hap 
 piness that it seemed impossible for her to confer 
 on me, partly in fear lest Montignac's words might 
 bring me forth. 
 
 " It is easily in your power to confer more than 
 happiness," said Montignac. 
 
 " How, monsieur ? " she faltered, trembling under 
 two fears, that of Montignac's ardor and that of my 
 disclosing myself. " I am puzzled to know." 
 
 "By conferring your hand, mademoiselle," said
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 411 
 
 Montignac, following her and grasping her wrist. 
 " Your father will be glad to give his consent for 
 his liberty, if he knows that you have given yours. 
 But we can arrange to proceed without his consent. 
 Do not draw back, mademoiselle. It is marriage 
 that I offer, when I might make other terms. My 
 family is a good one ; my prospects are the best, 
 and I have to lay at your feet a love that has 
 never been offered to another, a love as deep as 
 it is fresh " 
 
 I clutched the curtain to give vent to my rage. 
 Mademoiselle was looking towards me, and saw the 
 curtain move. 
 
 " Say no more ! " she cried, fearful lest his con 
 tinuance might be too much for my restraint. " I 
 cannot hear you ? " 
 
 " I love you, mademoiselle," he went on, losing 
 his self-control, so that his face quivered with pas 
 sion. " I can save you and your father ! " 
 
 He thrust his face so close to hers that she drew 
 back with an expression of disgust. 
 
 " A fine love, indeed ? " she cried, scornfully, 
 "that would buy the love it dare not hope' to 
 elicit free ! " And she turned to La Chatre as if 
 for protection. But the governor shook his head, 
 and remained motionless at the window. 
 
 " A love you shall not despise, mademoiselle ! " 
 hissed Montignac, stung by her scorn. He was
 
 412 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 standing by the table near the bed, and, in his 
 anger, he made to strike the table with his dagger, 
 but he struck instead the tray on the table, and so 
 produced a loud, ringing sound that startled the ear: 
 
 "Your fate is in my hands," he went on; "so is 
 your father's. As for this Tournoire, concerning 
 whom you have suddenly become scrupulous, he is, 
 doubtless, by this time in the hands of the troops 
 who have gone for him, and very well it is that we 
 decided not to wait for you to lead him to us. So 
 he had best be dismissed from your mind, as he pres 
 ently will be from this life. Accept me, and your 
 father goes free ! Spurn me, and he dies in the 
 chateau of Fleurier, and you shall still belong to me ! 
 Why not give me what I have the power and the 
 intention to take ? " 
 
 "If you take it," cried mademoiselle, "that is 
 your act. Were I to give, that would be mine. It 
 is by our own acts that we stand or fall in our own 
 eyes and God's ! " She spoke loudly, in a resolute 
 voice, as if to show me that she could look to herself, 
 so that I need not come out to her defence, for 
 well she guessed my mind, and knew that, though 
 she had consented a thousand times to betray me, 
 I would not stand passive while a man pressed his 
 unwelcome love on her. And now, as if to force a 
 change of theme by sheer vehemence of manner, she 
 turned her back towards Montignac and addressed
 
 BEHIND THE CURTAINS. 413 
 
 La Chatre with a fire that she had not previously 
 shown. 
 
 "You have heard the proposal of this buyer of 
 love ! You hear me reject it ! M. de la Chatre, I 
 hold you to your word. I have been of some service 
 to you in the matter of La Tournoire, and you would, 
 in some measure, reward me ! You have said it ! 
 Very well ! You expect to capture him to-night at 
 his hiding-place. Through me you learned that 
 hiding-place, therefore, through me you will have 
 taken him. There is but one possible way in which 
 you can reward me : Keep your word ! What if 
 I did refuse to plan the ambush ? You yourself 
 had already decided to dispense with that. In the 
 circumstances, all that I could have done for you I 
 have done. Would I could undo it ! But I cannot ! 
 Therefore, give me now, at once, an order that I 
 may take to Fleurier for my father's release ! " 
 
 La Chatre was plainly annoyed, for he loved to 
 keep the letter of his word. He could not deceive 
 this woman, as he had at first felicitated himself on 
 doing, with a false appearance of fair dealing. She 
 saw through that appearance. It was indeed irritat 
 ing to so honest a gentleman. To gain time for a 
 plausible answer, he moved slowly from the window 
 to the centre of the chamber. At the same time, 
 mademoiselle, to be further from Montignac, went 
 towards the door by which she had entered the
 
 414 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 room on my arrival. The secretary, with wolf-like 
 eyes, followed her, and both turned so as still to face 
 the governor. 
 
 " I shall devise some proper reward for you," said 
 La Chatre, slowly. " I adhere always to the strict 
 letter of my word ; but I am not bound to free your 
 father. The strict letter of my word, remember ! 
 Recall my words to you at the inn. I recall them 
 exactly, and so does Montignac, who this very even 
 ing reminded me of ahem, that is to say, I recall 
 them exactly. I was to send the order to the gov 
 ernor of Fleurier for your father's immediate release 
 the instant I should stand face to face with the Sieur 
 de la Tournoire in the chateau of Clochonne." 
 
 I threw aside the bed-curtain, stepped forth, and 
 said : 
 
 " That time has come, monsieur ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 
 
 M. DE LA CHATRE could not have been more sur 
 prised if a spirit had risen from the floor at his feet. 
 He stared at me with startled eyes. I had sheathed 
 my sword while behind the curtains, and now I stood 
 motionless, with folded arms, before him. Mademoi 
 selle uttered a slight cry. Montignac, who stood 
 beside her, was as much taken aback as La Chatre 
 was, but was quicker to comprehend the situation. 
 Without moving from his attitude of surprise, he 
 regarded me with intense curiosity and hate. This 
 was his first sight of me, hence his curiosity. He 
 had already inferred that mademoiselle loved me, 
 therefore his hate. 
 
 "Who are you?" said La Chatre, at last, in a 
 tone of mingled alarm and resentment, as one might 
 address a supernatural intruder. 
 
 "The Sieur de la Tournoire," said I, "standing 
 face to face with you in the chateau of Clochonne ! 
 You shall give mademoiselle that order for her 
 father's release, or you shall never break your word 
 again."
 
 416 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 And I drew my sword, and held it with its point 
 towards his breast. 
 
 The fear of death blanched his cheeks and spurred 
 his dull wits. 
 
 " Montignac," he cried, keeping his eyes fixed on 
 mine, " if this man makes a move, kill the woman ! " 
 
 In his situation of peril, his mind had become 
 agile. He had suddenly perceived how things were 
 between mademoiselle and me. 
 
 As I have shown, Montignac stood with mademoi 
 selle at some distance from La Chatre and myself. 
 I dared not take my eye from the governor, lest he 
 should step out of reach of my sword ; but I could 
 hear Montignac quickly unsheathe his dagger, and 
 mademoiselle give a sharp ejaculation of pain. Then 
 I turned my head for a moment's glance, and saw 
 that he had caught her wrist in a tight grasp, and 
 that he held his dagger ready to plunge it into her 
 breast. 
 
 For a short time we stood thus, while I considered 
 what to do next. It was certain that Montignac 
 would obey the governor's order, if only out of hatred 
 for ..me and in revenge on her for his despised love, 
 though he might fall by my sword a moment later. 
 Therefore, I did not dare go to attack him any more 
 than I dared attack La Chatre. The governor, of 
 course, would not let her be killed unless I made 
 some hostile movement, for if she were dead noth-
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 
 
 ing could save him from me, unless help came. He 
 feared to call for help, I suppose, lest rather than be 
 taken I should risk a rush at Montignac, and have 
 himself for an instant at my mercy, after all. 
 
 I cast another glance at Montignac, and measured 
 the distance from me to him, to consider whether I 
 might reach him before he could strike mademoiselle. 
 La Chatre must have divined my thought, for he 
 said : 
 
 " Montignac, I will deal with this gentleman. Take 
 mademoiselle into that chamber and close the door." 
 And he pointed to the door immediately behind 
 mademoiselle, the one by which I had first seen 
 her enter. 
 
 " But, monsieur " began Montignac. 
 
 " I had not quite finished, Montignac," went on 
 La Chatre. " I have my reason for desiring you and 
 the lady to withdraw. Fear not to leave me with him. 
 Lame as I am, I am no match for him, it is true, but 
 mademoiselle shall continue to be a hostage for his 
 good behavior." 
 
 " I understand," said Montignac, " but how shall 
 I know ? " 
 
 " Should M. de la Tournoire make one step to 
 wards me," said the governor, here he paused and 
 took up the hunting-horn and looked at it, but pres 
 ently dropped it and pointed to the bowl of fruit on 
 the table near the fireplace, "I shall strike this
 
 4l8 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 bowl, thus." He struck the bowl with his stick, and 
 it gave forth a loud, metallic ring, like that previously 
 produced by Montignac's dagger from the tray on 
 the other table. " The voice is not always to be 
 relied on," continued the governor. " Sometimes it 
 fails when most needed. But a sound like this," and 
 he struck the bowl again, "can be made instantly 
 and with certainty. Should you hear one stroke on 
 the bowl, one only, not followed quickly by a sec 
 ond stroke, let mademoiselle pay for the rashness 
 of her champion ! " 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied Montignac, a kind of 
 diabolical triumph in his voice. 
 
 "It may be," said La Chatre, "that no such vio 
 lent act will be necessary, and that I shall merely 
 require your presence here. In that case, I shall 
 strike twice rapidly, thus. Therefore, when you 
 hear a stroke, wait an instant lest there be a second 
 stroke. But if there be no second, act as I have 
 told you." 
 
 "After you, mademoiselle," said Montignac, in 
 dicating by a motion his desire that she should 
 precede him backward out of the chamber. He 
 still clutched her arm and held his dagger aloft, 
 intending thus to back out of the room after her. 
 
 " I will not go ! " she answered, trying to resist 
 the force that he was using on her arm. 
 
 This was the first resistance she had offered.
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 419 
 
 She had previously stood motionless beneath his 
 lifted dagger, feeling herself unable to break from 
 his grasp of iron, and supposing that any effort to 
 do so would bring down the dagger into her delicate 
 breast. A woman's instinctive horror of such a 
 blow deterred her from the slightest movement that 
 might invite it. She had trusted to me for what 
 action might serve to save us from our enemies. 
 But now her terror of leaving my presence, and her 
 horror of being alone with Montignac, overcame her 
 fear of the dagger. " I will not go ! " she repeated. 
 
 " Go, mademoiselle," said I, gently, taking her 
 glove from my belt, where I had placed it, and kiss 
 ing it, to show that I was still her devoted chevalier. 
 "Go! Tis the better way." For I welcomed any 
 step that might take Montignac from the chamber, 
 and leave La Chatre's wit unaided to cope with 
 mine. 
 
 Her eyes showed submission, and she immediately 
 obeyed the guidance of Montignac's hand. Facing 
 me still, he went out after her, and closed the door. 
 
 I was alone with La Chatre. 
 
 " My secretary stood a little too near the point of 
 your sword," said the governor, "for the perfect 
 security of my hostage. There was just a possi 
 bility of your being too quick for him. I saw that 
 you were contemplating that possibility. As it is 
 now, should I give him the signal, as I shall if you
 
 420 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 move either towards me or towards that chamber, 
 he could easily put mademoiselle out of the way 
 before you could open the door. Not that I desire 
 harm to mademoiselle. Her death would not serve 
 me at all. It would, indeed, be something that I 
 should have to deplore. If I should deplore it, how 
 much more would you ! And since you surely will 
 not be so ungallant as to cause the death of so 
 charming a lady, I think I have you, let us say, at a 
 slight disadvantage ! " And he sat down beside the 
 table near the fireplace. 
 
 " I think not so, monsieur," said I, touching 
 lightly with my sword's point the tray on the table 
 near the bed ; " for should you strike once on your 
 bowl, I should very quickly strike once on this tray, 
 so that two strokes would be heard, and the obedi 
 ent Montignac, mindful of his orders, would enter 
 this chamber, not having slain mademoiselle." 
 
 I ought not to have disclosed this, my advantage. 
 I ought rather to have summoned Montignac by two 
 strokes on the tray, and been at the door to receive 
 him. But I had not waited to consider. I spoke of 
 the advantage as soon as I noticed it, supposing that 
 La Chatre, on seeing it, would think himself at my 
 mercy and would come to my terms. He was 
 taken back somewhat, it is true, but not much. 
 
 "Pah!" he said. "After all, I could shout to 
 him."
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 421 
 
 " It would be your last shouting. Moreover, your 
 shouted orders would be cut off unfinished, and the 
 punctilious Montignac would be left in doubt as to 
 your wishes. Rather than slay mademoiselle on an 
 uncertainty, he would come hither to assure himself, 
 in which case God pity him ! " 
 
 "Thank you for your warning, monsieur," said 
 La Chatre, with mock courtesy. "There shall be 
 no shouting." 
 
 Whereupon he struck the bowl with his stick. 
 Taken by surprise, I could only strike my tray 
 with my sword, so that two strokes might surely 
 be heard, although at the same time he gave a sec 
 ond stroke, showing that his intention was merely 
 to summon Montignac. In my momentary fear for 
 mademoiselle's life, and with my thoughts instantly 
 concentrated on striking the tray, I did not have 
 the wit to leap to the door and receive Montignac 
 on my sword's point, as I would have done had 
 I myself summoned him, or had I expected La 
 Chatre' s signal. 
 
 So there I stood, far from the door, when it 
 opened, and the secretary advanced his foot across 
 the threshold. Even then I made a movement as if 
 to rush on him, but he brought forward his left hand 
 and I saw that it still clutched the white wrist of 
 mademoiselle. Only her arm was visible in the door 
 way. Montignac still held his dagger raised. One
 
 422 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 step backward and one thrust, and he could lay 
 her dead at his feet. Had I been ready at the 
 door for him, I could have killed him before he 
 could have made these two movements ; but from 
 where I stood, I could not have done so. So I 
 listened in some chagrin to the governor's words. 
 
 " I change the signal, Montignac. At one stroke, 
 do not harm the lady, but come hither ; but should 
 you hear two strokes, or three, or any number more, 
 she is to be sacrificed." 
 
 " My dagger is ready, monsieur ! " 
 
 Again the door closed ; again I was alone with 
 La Chatre. 
 
 I had lost my former advantage. For now, should 
 I strike my tray once, for the purpose of summoning 
 Montignac, so that I might be at the door to slay 
 him at first sight, the governor could strike his bowl, 
 and Montignac would hear two strokes or more 
 signal for mademoiselle's death. 
 
 "And now, monsieur," said the governor, making 
 himself comfortable in his chair between table and 
 fireplace, "let us talk. You see, if you approach 
 me or that door, or if you start to leave this cham 
 ber, I can easily strike the bowl twice before you 
 take three steps." 
 
 I could see that he was not as easy in his mind 
 as he pretended to be. It was true that, as matters 
 now were, his life was secure through my regard
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 423 
 
 for mademoiselle's ; but were he to attempt leaving 
 the room or calling help, or, indeed, if help were 
 to come uncalled, and I should find my own life 
 or liberty threatened, I might risk anything, even 
 mademoiselle's life, for the sake of revenge on him. 
 He would not dare save himself by letting me go 
 free out of his own chateau. To do that would 
 bring down the wrath of the Duke of Guise, would 
 mean ruin. That I knew well. If I should go to 
 leave the chamber, he would give the signal for 
 Montignac to kill mademoiselle. As for me, I did 
 not wish to go without her or until I should have 
 accomplished a certain design I had conceived. 
 Thus I was La Chatre's prisoner, and he was mine. 
 Each could only hope, by thought or talk, to arrive 
 at some means of getting the better of the other. 
 
 La Chatre's back was towards the door by which 
 I had entered. By mere chance, it seemed, I turned 
 my head towards that door. At that instant, my 
 man, Frojac, appeared in the doorway. He had 
 approached with the silence of a ghost. He car 
 ried the arquebus that had belonged to the guards 
 man, and his match was burning. Risking all on 
 the possible effect of a sudden surprise on the gov 
 ernor, I cried, sharply : 
 
 "Fire on that man, Frojac, if he moves." 
 La Chatre, completely startled, rose from his 
 chair and turned about, forgetful of the stick and
 
 424 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 bowl. When his glance reached Frojac, my good 
 man had his arquebus on a line with the governor's 
 head, the match dangerously near the breech. 
 
 " I have looked after the guards, monsieur," said 
 Frojac, cheerily, "both of them." 
 
 " Stand where you are," said I to him, " and if 
 that gentleman attempts to strike that bowl, see that 
 he does not live to strike it more than once." 
 
 " He shall not strike it even once, monsieur ! " 
 
 "You see, M. de la Chatre," said I, "the contents 
 of an arquebus travel faster than a man can." 
 
 " This is unfair ! " were the first words of the 
 governor, after his season of dumb astonishment. 
 
 " Pardon me," said I. " It is but having you, let 
 us say, at a slight disadvantage ; and now I think I 
 may move." 
 
 I walked over to the governor's table and took up 
 the bowl. La Chatre watched me in helpless cha 
 grin, informing himself by a side glance that Frojac's 
 weapon still covered him. 
 
 " You look somewhat irritated and disgusted, mon 
 sieur," said I. " Pray sit down ! " 
 
 As I held my sword across the table, the point in 
 close proximity to his chest, he obeyed, uttering a 
 heavy sigh at his powerlessness. I then threw the 
 bowl into the bed, taking careful aim so that it 
 might make no sound. At that moment I saw La 
 Chatre look towards the chamber in which were
 
 SWOJtD AND DAGGER. 42$ 
 
 Montignac and mademoiselle, and there came on his 
 face the sign of a half -formed project. 
 
 " See also, Frojac," said I, " that he does not open 
 his mouth to shout." 
 
 " He shall be as silent as if born dumb, monsieur." 
 
 " Oh, he may speak, but not so loud as to be 
 heard in the next chamber. Look to it, Frojac." 
 
 " Very well, monsieur." 
 
 For I did not wish, as yet, that Montignac should 
 know what was going on. Through the closed door 
 and the thick tapestried walls, only a loud cry, or 
 some such sound as a stroke on the resonant bowl 
 or tray, could have reached him. We had spoken 
 in careful tones, La Chatre not daring to raise his 
 voice. Thus the closing of the door, intended by 
 the governor to make Montignac safer from a sud 
 den rush on my part, now served my own purpose. 
 It is true that, since Frojac had appeared, and the 
 governor could not make his signal, I might have 
 summoned Montignac by a single stroke, and des 
 patched him in the doorway. But now that my own 
 position was easier, I saw that such a manoeuvre, 
 first contemplated when only a desperate stroke 
 seemed possible, was full of danger to mademoiselle. 
 I might bungle it, whereupon Montignac would cer 
 tainly attempt one blow against her, though it were 
 his last. I must, therefore, use the governor to 
 release her from her perilous situation; but first I
 
 426 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 must use him for another purpose, which the pres 
 ence of the keen-witted Montignac might defeat. 
 Hence, the secretary was not yet to be made aware 
 of the turn things had taken. 
 
 There were three quills on the table. I took up 
 one of them and dipped it in the horn of ink. 
 
 " Shall I tell you of what you are thinking, mon 
 sieur," said I, observing on the governor's face a 
 new expression, that of one who listens and makes 
 some mental calculation. 
 
 "Amuse yourself as you please, monsieur," he 
 answered. 
 
 " You are thinking, first, that as I am in your 
 chateau, and not alone, I have, doubtless, deprived 
 you of all the soldiers left to guard your chateau ; 
 secondly, that at a certain time, a few hours ago, 
 your troops set out for my residence ; that they 
 have probably now learned that I am not there ; 
 that they have consequently started to return. You 
 are asking yourself what will happen if I am here 
 when they arrive. Will I kill you before I allow 
 myself to be taken ? Probably, you say. Men like 
 me value themselves highly, and sell themselves 
 dearly. You would rather that I leave before they 
 come. Then you can send them on my track. Very 
 well ; write, monsieur ! " And I handed him the pen. 
 
 He looked at me with mingled vindictiveness and 
 wonder, as if it were remarkable that I had uttered
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 427 
 
 the thoughts that any one in his position must have 
 had. Mechanically he took the pen. 
 
 "What shall I write?" he muttered. 
 
 " Write thus : To M. de Brissard, governor of 
 Fleurier. Release M. de Varion immediately. Let 
 him accompany the man who bears this and who 
 brings a horse for him." 
 
 With many haltings, many side glances at Frojac's 
 arquebus and my sword-point, many glum looks and 
 black frowns, he wrote, while I watched from across 
 the table. Then he threw the document towards 
 me. 
 
 " Sign and seal," I said, tossing it back to him. 
 
 With intended slovenliness he affixed the signature 
 and seal, then threw the pen to the floor. I took the 
 order, scanned it, and handed him another pen. 
 
 " Excellent ! " said I. " And now again ! " 
 
 He made a momentary show of haughty, indignant 
 refusal, but a movement of my sword quelled the brief 
 revolt in him. 
 
 "The bearer of this," I dictated, " M. de Varion, 
 is to pass free in the province, and to cross the border 
 where he will." 
 
 This time he signed and affixed the seal without 
 additional request. He threw the second pen after 
 the first, and looked up at me with a scowl. 
 
 " A bold, brave signature, monsieur ! There is 
 one pen left ! " and I handed him the third quill.
 
 428 AN ENEMY TO THE KING, 
 
 He took it with a look of wrath, after which he gave 
 a sigh of forced patience, and sat ready to write. 
 
 " The bearer of this, Ernanton de Launay " 
 
 " Ernanton de Launay ? " he repeated, looking up 
 inquiringly. 
 
 " Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire, " 
 I went on. 
 
 He stared at me aghast, as if my presumption 
 really passed all' bounds, but a glint of light on my 
 sword caught his eye, he carried his eye along to 
 the point, which was under his nose, and he wrote : 
 
 " is to pass free in the province, and from it, 
 with all his company." 
 
 " No, no, no ! I will never write that ! " 
 
 Without an instant's hesitation, I drew back my 
 sword as if to add weight to an intended thrust. He 
 gasped, and then finished the pass, signed it, and 
 attached the seal. 
 
 " Be assured," I said, as I took up the last order, 
 "these will be used before you shall have time to 
 countermand them." He gritted his teeth at this. 
 "I thank you heartily, monsieur, and shall ask you 
 to do no more writing. But one favor will I claim, 
 the loan of a few gold pieces for M. de Varion. 
 Come, monsieur, your purse has ever been well 
 fed ! " 
 
 With a look of inward groaning, he negligently 
 handed me some pieces, not counting them.
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 429 
 
 " Parbleu ! " he said. " You will ask me for my 
 chateau next." 
 
 "All in good time. It is a good jest, monsieur, 
 that while you visit me at Maury by proxy, I return 
 the visit at Clochonne in person and find your chateau 
 unguarded. To complete the jest, I need only take 
 possession. But I am for elsewhere. Frojac, come 
 here." 
 
 While Frojac approached, I held my sword ready 
 for any movement on the part of my unhappy adver 
 sary, for I saw him cast a furtive look at the tray on 
 the other table, and I read on his face the birth of 
 some new design. 
 
 Rapidly I gave Frojac my commands, with the 
 gold and the two orders first written. 
 
 " Take this order immediately, with my horse and 
 your own, to the chateau of Fleurier. Secure M. de 
 Varion's release, and fly with him at once from the 
 province, leaving by the western border, so that you 
 cannot possibly be forestalled by any troops or coun 
 ter-orders that this gentleman may send from here. 
 Make your way speedily to Guienne." 
 
 " And in Guienne, monsieur ? " 
 
 " You will doubtless find me at the camp of Henri 
 of Navarre. As soon as you see M. de Varion, assure 
 him of the safety of his daughter. And now to 
 horse ! " 
 
 " I am already on my way, monsieur ! " And the
 
 430 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 good fellow ran from the chamber and down the 
 stairs. In a few moments I heard the horses clat 
 tering out of the courtyard and over the bridge. 
 Pleased at his zeal and swiftness, I stepped to the 
 window to wave him a godspeed. I thus turned my 
 back towards La Chatre. 
 
 Frojac saw me and waved in response, as he 
 dashed down the moonlit way towards the road to 
 Fleurier. 
 
 I heard a stealthy noise behind me, and, turning, 
 saw what made me fiercely repent my momentary 
 forgetfulness and my reliance on the governor's 
 lameness. The sight revealed plainly enough what 
 new idea had come into La Chatre's mind, simply 
 that, if he should give the signal for mademoiselle's 
 death, I would probably not stay to attack him, but 
 would instantly rush into the next chamber in the 
 hope of saving her. He could then fasten the door, 
 and so hold me prisoner in that chamber until the 
 return of his troops. Well for us that he had not 
 thought of this before the arrival of Frojac ! 
 
 He was already near the table on which was the 
 tray, when I turned and saw him. He raised his 
 stick to strike the tray. I rushed after him. 
 
 He brought down his stick. The tray sounded, 
 loud and bell-like. He heard me coming, and raised 
 his stick again. The second clang would be the 
 death-knell of my beloved !
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 43 I 
 
 But my sword was in time, my arm served. The 
 blade met the descending stick and knocked it from 
 the governor's grasp. The same rush that took me 
 between La Chatre and the table carried me across 
 the chamber to a spot at one side of the door which 
 Montignac at that moment threw open. 
 
 " You struck once, did you not, monsieur ? " said 
 Montignac, not seeing me, for he naturally looked 
 towards the centre of the chamber. 
 
 He held mademoiselle's wrist in his left hand, his 
 dagger in his right. I was at his right side. I was 
 too near him to use my sword with effect, so I con 
 tented myself with stepping quickly behind him and 
 bringing my fist down on his left arm above the 
 elbow. This unexpected blow made him involun 
 tarily release mademoiselle's wrist, and informed him 
 of my whereabouts. The impulse of self-preserva 
 tion caused him to rush forward and turn. I then 
 stepped in front of mademoiselle and faced him. All 
 this, from my turning from the window, was done in 
 a moment. 
 
 "And now, M. de la Chatre," said I, "you may 
 strike the bowl as often as you please." 
 
 "M. de la Chatre," said Montignac, in a quick, 
 resolute voice, "give me leave to finish this ! " 
 
 "As you will, Montignac! " replied the governor, 
 moving towards the window. His movement be 
 trayed his thought. If his troops should return in
 
 432 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 the next few minutes, I would be too busy with 
 Montignac % to attack himself. There were two 
 hopes for him. One was that, by some miracle, 
 Montignac might kill or wound me. The other was 
 that the troops might return before I should have 
 finished with Montignac. La Chatre had doubtless 
 inferred that I had brought with me none of my 
 men but Frojac ; therefore I alone was to be feared. 
 
 Montignac, keeping his eyes fixed on me, trans 
 ferred his dagger to his left hand, and drew his 
 sword with his right. I, with my sword already in 
 my right hand, drew my dagger with my left. 
 
 " Monsieur," said I to Montignac, " I see with 
 pleasure that you are not a coward." 
 
 "You shall see what you shall see, monsieur! " he 
 answered, in the voice of a man who fears nothing 
 and never loses his wits. 
 
 It was, indeed, a wonder that this man of thought 
 could become so admirable a man of action. There 
 was nothing fragile in this pale student. His eyes 
 took on the hardness of steel. Never did more self- 
 reliant and resolute an antagonist meet me. The 
 hate that was manifest in his countenance did not 
 rob him of self-possession. It only strengthened 
 and steadied him. At first I thought him foolhardy 
 to face so boldly an antagonist who wore a breast 
 plate, but later I found that, beneath his jerkin, he 
 was similarly protected. I suppose that he had
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 433 
 
 intended to accompany the troops to Maury, had 
 so prepared himself for battle, and had not found 
 opportunity, after the change of intention, to divest 
 himself. 
 
 Conscious of mademoiselle's presence behind me, 
 I stood for a moment awaiting the secretary's attack. 
 In that moment did I hear, or but seem to hear, the 
 sound of many horses' footfalls on the distant road ? 
 I did not wait to assure myself. Knowing that, if 
 the governor's troops had indeed found Maury aban 
 doned, and had returned, quick work was necessary, 
 I attacked at the same instant as my adversary did. 
 As I would no more than disable an antagonist less 
 protected than myself, I made to touch him lightly 
 in his right side ; but my point, tearing away a part 
 of his jerkin, gave the sound and feel of metal, and 
 thus I learned that he too wore body armor. I was 
 pleased at this ; for now we were less unequal than I 
 had thought, and I might use full force. He had 
 tried to turn with his dagger this my first thrust, 
 but was not quick enough, whereas my own dagger 
 caught neatly the sword-thrust that he made simul 
 taneously with mine. 
 
 " Oh, M. de Launay ! " cried mademoiselle, behind 
 me, in a voice of terror, at the first swift clash of our 
 weapons. 
 
 " Fear not for me, mademoiselle ! " I cried, catch 
 ing Montignac's blade again with my dagger, and
 
 434 AW ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 giving a thrust which he avoided by leaping back 
 ward. 
 
 " Good, Montignac ! " cried La Chatre, looking on 
 from the window. " He cannot reach you ! If you 
 cannot kill him, you may keep him engaged till the 
 troops come back ! " 
 
 " I shall kill him ! " was Montignac's reply, while 
 he faced me with set teeth and relentless eyes. 
 
 " Listen, monsieur ! " cried mademoiselle. " If you 
 die, I shall die with you ! " And she ran from be 
 hind me to the centre of the chamber, where I could 
 see her. 
 
 " And if I live ? " I shouted, narrowly stopping a 
 terrible thrust, and stepping back between the table 
 and the bed. 
 
 " If we live, I am yours forever ! Ernanton, I 
 love you ! " 
 
 At last she had confessed it with her lips ! For 
 the first time, she had called me by my Christian 
 name ! My head swam with joy. 
 
 " You kill me with happiness, Julie ! " I cried, 
 overturning the table towards Montignac to gain a 
 moment's breath. 
 
 " I shall kill you with my sword ! " Montignac 
 hurled the words through clenched teeth. " For, by 
 God, you shall have no happiness with her ! " 
 
 His white face had an expression of demoniac hate, 
 yet his thrusts became the more adroit and swift, his
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 435 
 
 guard the more impenetrable and firm. His body 
 was as sinuous as a wild beast's, his eye as steady. 
 The longer he fought, the more formidable he be 
 came as an adversary. He was worth a score of 
 Vicomtes de Berquin. 
 
 "Ernanton," cried mademoiselle, "you know all 
 my treachery ! " 
 
 " I know that you would have saved your father," 
 I answered, leaping backward upon the bed, to avoid 
 the secretary's impetuous rush ; " and that I have 
 saved him, and that, God willing, we shall soon meet 
 him in Guienne ! " 
 
 " If he meets you, it will be in hell ! " With this, 
 Montignac jumped upon the bed after me, and there 
 was some close dagger play while I turned to back 
 out between the posts at the foot. 
 
 At this moment La Chatre gave a loud, jubilant 
 cry, and mademoiselle, looking out of the window, 
 uttered a scream of consternation. 
 
 "The troops at last!" shouted La Chatre. 
 " Hold out but another minute, Montignac ! " 
 
 So then I had heard aright.' Alas, I thought, 
 that the river road to Maury should be so much 
 shorter than the forest road ; alas, that the gover 
 nor's troops should have had time to return ere 
 Blaise had reached the junction of the roads ! 
 
 " My God, the soldiers have us in a trap ! " cried 
 mademoiselle, while I caught Montignac's dagger-
 
 43^ AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 point with a bed-curtain, and stepped backward from 
 the bed to the floor. 
 
 " And mademoiselle shall be mine ! " 
 
 As he uttered these words with a fiendish kind of 
 elation, Montignac leaped from the bed after me, 
 releasing his dagger by pulling the curtain from its 
 fastening, while at the same time his sword-point, 
 directed at my neck, rang on my breast-plate. 
 
 "You shall not live to see the end of this, 
 monsieur ! " I replied, infuriated at his premature 
 glee. 
 
 And, having given ground a little, I made so quick 
 an onslaught that, in saving himself, he fell back 
 against a chair, which overturned and took him to 
 the floor with it. 
 
 " Help, monsieur ! " he cried to La Chatre, 
 raising his dagger just in time to ward off my 
 sword. 
 
 The governor now perceived the sword that stood 
 by the fireplace, took it up, and thrust at me. 
 Mademoiselle, who, in her distress at the sight of the 
 troops, had run to the prie-dieu and fallen on her 
 knees, saw La Chatre' s movement, and, rushing 
 forward, caught the sword with both hands as he 
 thrust. I expected to see her fingers torn by the 
 blade, but it happened that the sword was still in its 
 sheath, a fact which in our excitement none of us 
 had observed ; so that when La Chatre tried to pull
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 437 
 
 the weapon from her grasp he merely drew it from 
 the sheath, which remained in her hands. By this 
 time I was ready for the governor. 
 
 " Come on ! " I cried. " It is a better match, two 
 against me ! " 
 
 And I sent La Chatre's sword flying from his 
 hand, just in time to guard against a dagger stroke 
 from Montignac, who had now risen. Julie snatched 
 up the sword and held the governor at bay with it. 
 
 For some moments the distant clatter of galloping 
 horses had been rapidly increasing. 
 
 " Quick ! " shouted La Chatre through the window 
 to the approaching troops. " To the rescue ! " 
 
 And he stood wildly beckoning them on, but keep 
 ing his head turned towards Montignac and me, who 
 both fought with the great'est fury. For I saw that 
 I had found at last an antagonist requiring all my 
 strength and skill, one with whom the outcome was 
 not at all certain. 
 
 The tumult of hoofs grew louder and nearer. 
 
 " Ernanton, fly while we can ! The soldiers are 
 coming ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle threw La Chatre's sword to a far 
 corner, ran to the door leading from the stairway land 
 ing, closed it, and pushed home the bolt. 
 
 " They are at the gate ! They are entering ! " 
 cried the governor, joyously. "Another minute, 
 Montignac ! "
 
 438 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 There was the rushing clank of hoofs on the 
 drawbridge, then from the courtyard rose a confused 
 turbulence of horses, men, and arms. 
 
 Again my weapons clashed with Montignac's. 
 Julie looked swiftly around. Her eye alighted on 
 the dagger that lay on one of the chairs. She drew 
 it from its sheath. 
 
 " If we die, it is together ! " she cried, holding it 
 aloft. 
 
 There came a deadened, thumping sound, growing 
 swiftly to great volume. It was that of men rushing 
 up the stairs. 
 
 " To the rescue ! " cried La Chatre. " But one 
 more parry, Montignac ! " 
 
 There was now a thunder of tramping in the hall 
 outside the door. 
 
 " Ay, one more the last ! " It was I who 
 spoke, and the speech was truth. I leaped upon 
 my enemy, between his dagger and his sword, and 
 buried my dagger in his neck. When I drew it out, 
 he whirled around, clutched wildly at the air, caught 
 the curtain at the window, and fell, with the quick, 
 sharp cry : 
 
 " God have mercy on me ! " 
 
 "Amen to that!" said I, wiping the blood from 
 my dagger. 
 
 A terrible pounding shook the door, and from 
 without came cries of " Open." Mademoiselle ran
 
 " < ARE WE IN TIME, MY CAPTAIN ? ' "
 
 SWORD AND DAGGER. 439 
 
 to my side, her dagger ready for her breast. I put 
 my left arm around her. 
 
 " And now, God have mercy on you ! " shouted 
 La Chatre, triumphantly ; for the door flew from its 
 place, and armed men surged into the chamber, 
 crowding the open doorway. 
 
 " Are we in time, my captain ? " roared their 
 leader, looking from the governor to me. 
 
 And La Chatre tottered back to the fireplace, 
 dumbfounded, for the leader was Blaise and the 
 men were my own. 
 
 Julie gave a glad little cry, and, dropping her 
 dagger, sank to her knees exhausted. 
 
 " Good-night, monsieur ! " I said to La Chatre. 
 "We thank you for your hospitality!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 
 
 I ORDERED the men to return to the courtyard, 
 and, supporting Julie, I followed them from the 
 chamber, leaving M. de la Chatre alone with his 
 chagrin and the dead body of his secretary. 
 
 In the hall outside the governor's chamber, we 
 found Jeannotte and Hugo, for Blaise had brought 
 them with him, believing that we would not return 
 to Maury. The gypsies had accompanied him as 
 far as Godeau's inn, where we had first met them. 
 He had even brought as much baggage and provi 
 sions as could be hastily packed on the horses be 
 hind the men. The only human beings left by him 
 at Maury were the three rascals who had so blunder 
 ingly served De Berquin, but he had considerately 
 unlocked the door of their cell before his departure. 
 
 I begged mademoiselle to rest a while in one of 
 the chambers contiguous to the hall, and, when she 
 and Jeannotte had left us, I told Blaise as much of 
 the truth as it needed to show mademoiselle as she 
 was. I then explained why he had found the draw- 
 .-440
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 441 
 
 bridge down, the gate open, the chateau undefended. 
 He grinned at the trick that fate had played on 
 our enemies, but looked rather downcast at the lost 
 opportunity of meeting them at Maury. 
 
 " But," said he, looking cheerful again, " they will 
 come back to the chateau and find us here, and we 
 may yet have some lively work with them." 
 
 "Perchance," I said, "for I fear that mademoiselle 
 cannot endure another ride to-night. If she could, 
 I would start immediately for Guienne. Our work 
 in Berry is finished." 
 
 "Then you shall start immediately," said a gentle 
 but resolute voice behind me. Mademoiselle, after 
 a few minutes' repose, had risen and come to de 
 mand that no consideration for her comfort should 
 further imperil our safety. 
 
 "But " I started to object. 
 
 "Better another ride," she said, with a smile, 
 " than another risking of your life. I swear that I 
 will not rest till you are out of danger. It is not 
 I who most need rest." 
 
 She looked, indeed, fresh and vigorous, as one 
 will, despite bodily fatigue, when one has cast off a 
 heavy burden and found promise of new happiness. 
 When a whole lifetime of joy was to be won, it was 
 no time to tarry for the sake of weary limbs. 
 
 So it was decided that we should start at once 
 southward, not resting until we should be half-way
 
 442 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 across the mountains. As for my belated foragers, 
 we should have to let them take their chances of 
 rejoining us ; and some weeks later they did indeed 
 arrive at the camp in Guienne'with rich spoil, having 
 found Maury given over to the owls and bats as of 
 yore. 
 
 The men cheered for joy at the announcement 
 that we were at last to rejoin our Henri's flying 
 camp. In the guard-house we found Pierre and the 
 other guardsman, both securely bound by Frojac. 
 We released Pierre and sent him to his mistress. 
 I put Blaise at the head of my company, and we set 
 forth, half of the troop going first, then mademoi 
 selle and I, then Jeannotte and the two boys, and 
 lastly the other half of my force. Looking back, 
 I saw the lighted window of the governor's chamber, 
 that window whence I had looked out at Frojac and 
 whence La Chatre had mistakenly taken my men for 
 his own. Doubtless he still sat in his chamber, dazed 
 and incapable of action, for after leaving him alone 
 there I neither saw nor heard him. Nor did we see 
 any more troops or any servants about the chateau. 
 Some hasty scampering in distant apartments, after 
 the entrance of my men, was the only indication of 
 inhabitants that we had received. If there were 
 other troops in the chateau than the six we had 
 disposed of, they followed the example of the ser 
 vants and lay close. As for the soldiers at the town
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 443 
 
 guard-house, they must have heard my men ride to 
 the chateau, but they had wisely refrained from 
 appearing before a force greater than their own. 
 I shall never cease to marvel that the very night 
 that took me and my men to Clochonne by one road 
 took La Chatre's guards and the town garrison to 
 Maury by another. 
 
 When I sent Blaise to the head of the troops, 
 I told him to set a good pace, for the governor's men 
 had indeed had time sufficient to have gone to Maury, 
 discovered their mistake, and come back, so much 
 shorter is the river road than the forest way. There 
 was a likelihood, therefore, of their reaching the point 
 of junction, on their return, at any minute, and I 
 wished to be past that point and well up the moun 
 tain-side before they should do so. 
 
 Julie rode very close to me, and as soon as we 
 were out of the gate she began in a low tone to 
 speak of a thing that required no more explanation 
 to me ; yet I let her speak on, for the relief of her 
 heart. So, in a few minutes, as we rode with the 
 soldiers in the night, she eased her mind forever of 
 the matter. 
 
 "When I received word in Bourges," she said, 
 " that my father was in prison, I thought that I would 
 die of grief and horror. They would not let me see 
 him, told me that his crime of harboring a Hugue 
 not was a grave one, that he had violated the King's
 
 444 AN ENEMY TO THE KIM*. 
 
 edict, and might be charged even with treason. The 
 thought of how he must suffer in a dungeon was 
 more than I could endure. Only M. de la Chatre, 
 they told me, could order his release. La Chatre 
 had left Fleurier to go northward. I started after 
 him, not waiting even to refresh my horses. When 
 we reached the inn at the end of the town, I had 
 become sufficiently calm to listen to Hugo's advice 
 that it would be best to, bait the horses before going 
 further. I began to perceive, too, that myself and 
 Jeannotte needed some nourishment in order to be 
 able to go on a journey. Thus it happened that 
 I stopped at the inn where La Chatre himself was. 
 He had not gone immediately north from Fleurier, 
 but had been visiting an estate in the vicinity, and 
 it was on regaining the main road that he had tar 
 ried at the inn, without reentering the town. I had 
 never seen him, but the girl at the inn told me who 
 he was. 
 
 "When I fell on my knees, and told him how 
 incapable my father was of harm or disloyalty, he 
 at first showed annoyance, and said that my plead 
 ing would be useless. My father must be treated 
 as an example, he said. To succor traitors was 
 treason, to shield heretics was heresy, and there 
 was no doubt that the judges would condemn him 
 to death, to furnish others a lesson. He was then 
 going to leave me, but his secretary came forward
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 445 
 
 and said that I had come at an opportune moment, 
 an instrument sent by Heaven. Was I not, he asked 
 the governor, some one who had much to gain or 
 much to lose ? Then La Chatre became joyful, and 
 said that there was a way one only by which I 
 might free my father. Eagerly I begged to know 
 that way, but with horror I refused it when I 
 learned that it was to to hunt down a certain 
 Huguenot captain, to make him trust me, and to 
 betray him. For a time I would not hear his per 
 suasions. Then he swore that, if I did not under 
 take this detestable mission, my father should surely 
 die ; and he told me that you were a deserter, a 
 traitor, an enemy to the church and to the King. 
 I had heard your name but once or twice, and I 
 remembered it only as one who had worked with 
 daring and secrecy in the interests of the Hugue 
 nots. He described my father tortured and killed, 
 his body hanging at the gates of Fleurier, blown 
 by the wind, and attacked by the birds. Oh, it 
 was terrible ! All this could be avoided, my father's 
 liberty regained, by my merely serving the King and 
 the church. He gave his word that, if I betrayed 
 you, my father should be released without even a 
 trial. You can understand, can you not ? You 
 were then a stranger to me, and my father the 
 most gentle and kindly of men, the most tender 
 and devoted of fathers."
 
 44^ AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "I understood already when I stood behind the 
 curtain, sweetheart," said I. 
 
 "When you came," she went on, "and asked 
 whither I was bound, I made my first attempt at 
 lying. I wonder that you did not perceive my 
 embarrassment and shame when I said that the 
 governor had threatened to imprison me if I did 
 not leave the province. It was the best pretext I 
 could give for leaving Fleurier while my father re 
 mained there in prison, though they would not let 
 me see him. It occurred to me that you must 
 think me a heartless daughter to go so far from 
 him, even if it were, indeed, to save my life." 
 
 " I thought only that you were an unhappy child, 
 of whose inexperience and fears the governor had 
 availed himself ; and that, after all, was the truth. 
 From the first moment when I knew that you were 
 the daughter of M. de Varion, I was resolved to 
 attempt his rescue ;* but I kept my intention from 
 you, lest I might fail." 
 
 ""Oh, to think that all the while I was planning 
 your betrayal, you were intending to save my father ! 
 Oh, the deception of which I was guilty ! What 
 constant torture, what continual shame I felt ! 
 Often I thought I had betrayed myself. Did you 
 not observe my agitation when you first mentioned 
 the name of La Tournoire, and said that you would 
 take me to him. I wonder that you did not hear my
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 44? 
 
 heart say, * That is the man I am to betray ! ' And 
 how bitter, yet sweet, it was to hear you commis 
 erate my dejection, which was due in part to the 
 shame of the treacherous task I had undertaken. It 
 seemed to me that you ought to guess its cause, 
 yet you attributed it all to other sources. What 
 a weight was on me while we rode towards Clo- 
 chonne, the knowledge that I was to betray the 
 man whom I then thought your friend, the friend 
 of the gentleman who protected me and was so solic 
 itous for my happiness ! How glad I was when 
 you told me the man was no great friend of yours, 
 that you would sacrifice him for the sake of the 
 woman you loved ! After all, I thought you might 
 not loathe me when you should learn that I had 
 betrayed him ! Yet, to perform my task in your 
 presence, to make him love me for I was to do 
 that, if needs be and it could be done while you 
 were with me, seemed impossible. This was the 
 barrier between us, the fact that I had engaged to 
 betray your friend, and you can understand now why I 
 begged that you would leave me. How could I play 
 the Delilah in your sight ? It had been hard enough 
 to question you about La Tournoire's hiding-place. 
 And when I learned that you were La Tournoire 
 himself, whom I had already half betrayed in sending 
 Pierre to La Chatre with an account of your hiding- 
 place ; that you whom I already loved why should
 
 448 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 I not confess it ? were the man whom I was to pre 
 tend to love ; that you who already loved me were 
 the man whom I was to betray by making him love 
 me, oh, what a moment that was, a moment when 
 all hope died and despair overwhelmed me ! Had I 
 known from the first that you were he, I might have 
 guarded against loving you " 
 
 "And well it is," said I, interrupting, "that for a 
 jest and a surprise I had kept that knowledge from 
 you ! Else you might indeed have " 
 
 " Oh, do not think of it ! " And she shuddered. 
 " But you are right. Love alone has saved us. But 
 at first even the knowledge that you were La Tour- 
 noire, and that none the less I loved you, did not 
 make me turn back. If my duty to my father had 
 before required that I should sacrifice you, did my 
 duty not still require it ? Did it make any change 
 in my duty that I loved you ? What right had I, 
 when devoted to a task like mine, to love any one ? 
 If I had violated my duty by loving you, ought I not 
 to disregard my love, stifle it, act as if it did not 
 exist ? 1 had to forget that I was a woman who 
 loved, remember only that I was a daughter. My 
 filial duty was no less, my proper choice between my 
 father and another was not altered by my having 
 fallen in love. I must carry my horrible task to the 
 end. What a night of struggle was that at the inn, 
 after I had learned that the appointed victim was you !
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 449 
 
 And now it was necessary that you should not leave 
 me; therefore I spoke no more of the barrier be 
 tween us. I fortified myself to hide my feelings 
 and maintain my pretence. Surely you noticed the 
 change in me, the forced composure and cheerful 
 ness. How I tried to harden myself ! 
 
 " And after that the words of love you so often 
 spoke to me, what bliss and what anguish they caused 
 me ! I was to have made you love me, but you 
 loved me already. I ought to have rejoiced at this, 
 for the success that it promised my purpose. Yet, 
 it was on that account that I shuddered at it ; and if 
 it did give me moments of joy it was because it 
 was pleasant to have your love. My heart rose at 
 the thought that I was loved by you, and fell at the 
 thought that your love was to cause your death. 
 Often, for your own sake, I wished that I might fail, 
 that you would not love me ; yet for my father's sake 
 I had to wish that I should succeed, had to be glad 
 that you loved me. To make you fall the more easily 
 into the hands of your enemies, I had to show love 
 for you. How easy it was to show what I felt ; yet 
 what anguish I underwent in showing it, when by 
 doing so I led you to death ! The more I appeared 
 to love you, the more truly I disclosed my heart, yet 
 the greater I felt was my treason ! I do not think 
 any woman's heart was ever so torn by opposing 
 motives ! "
 
 45 O AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 " My beloved, all that is past forever ! " 
 
 "In my dreams at Maury, we would be strolling 
 together among roses, under cloudless skies, nothing 
 to darken my joy. Then I would see you wounded, 
 the soldiers of the governor gathered around you 
 and laughing at my horror and grief. I would awake 
 and vow not to betray you, and then I would see my 
 father's face, pale and haggard, and my dead mother's, 
 wet with tears for his misery and supplicating me to 
 save him ! " 
 
 " My poor Julie ! " 
 
 " And to-night, yes, it was only to-night, it 
 seems so long ago, when you held my hand on 
 the dial, and plighted fidelity, what happiness I 
 should have had then, but for the knowledge of 
 my horrible task, of the death that awaited you, 
 of the treason I was so soon to commit ! For I 
 and Jeannotte had already arranged it, Hugo was 
 soon to be sent to La Chatre. And then came 
 De Berquin. For telling only the truth of me, 
 you killed him as a traducer. So much faith you 
 had in me, who deserved so little ! I could endure 
 it no longer ! Never would I look on your face 
 again with that weight of shame on me. God must 
 send other means of saving my father. They de 
 manded too much of me. I would, as far as I could, 
 make myself worthy of your faith, though I never 
 saw you again. Yet I could not betray La Chatre.
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 451 
 
 He had entrusted me with his design, and, detest 
 able as it was, I could not play him false in it. But 
 I could at least resign the mission. And I went, 
 to undo the compact and claim back my honor! I 
 little guessed that he would make use, without my 
 knowledge, of the information I had sent him of 
 your hiding-place. It seemed that, even though 
 La Chatre did know your hiding-place, God would 
 not let you be taken through me if I refused to be 
 your betrayer." 
 
 " And so it has turned out," I said, blithely, " and 
 now I no longer regret having kept from you my in 
 tention of attempting your father's release. For had 
 I told you of it, and events taken another course, 
 that attempt might have failed, and it would perhaps 
 have cost many lives, whereas the order that I got 
 from La Chatre this night is both sure and inexpen 
 sive. But for matters having gone as they have, I 
 should not have been enabled to get that order. 
 Ha ! What is this ! " 
 
 For Blaise had suddenly called a halt, and was 
 riding back to me as if for orders. 
 
 " Look, monsieur ! " and he pointed to where the 
 river road appeared from behind a little spur at the 
 base of the mountains. A body of horsemen was 
 coming into view. At one glance I recognized the 
 foremost riders as belonging to the troop I had seen 
 four hours before.
 
 452 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 "The devil!" said I. "La Chatre's soldiers 
 coming back from Maury!" 
 
 We had ridden down the descent leading from the 
 chateau along the town wall, and had left the town 
 some distance behind, so that the mountains now 
 loomed large before us. But we had not yet passed 
 the place where the roads converged. 
 
 " If we can only get into the mountain road before 
 they reach this one, we shall not meet them," I went 
 on. " Forward, men ! " 
 
 "But," said Blaise, astonished and frowning, but 
 riding on beside me, "they will reach this road 
 before we pass the junction. Do you wish them 
 to take us in the flank? See, they have seen us 
 and are pressing forward ! " 
 
 " If we reach our road in time, we shall lead them 
 a chase. Go to the head and set the pace at a 
 gallop ! " 
 
 "And have them overtake us and fall on our 
 rear ? " 
 
 "You mutinous rascal, don't you see that they 
 are three times our number? We stand better 
 chance in flight than in fight ! But, no, you are 
 right ! They are too near the junction. We must 
 face them. I shall go to the head. Julie, my be 
 trothed, I must leave you for a time. Roquelin 
 and Sabray shall fall behind with you, Jeannotte, 
 and the two boys."
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 453 
 
 " I shall not leave your side ! " she said, resolutely. 
 
 " Oh, mademoiselle ! " cried Jeannotte, in a great 
 fright. 
 
 "You may fall back, if you like," said Julie to 
 her. "I shall not." 
 
 All this time we were going forward and the 
 governor's troops were rapidly nearing the junction. 
 We could now plainly hear the noise they made, 
 which, because of that made by ourselves, we had 
 not heard sooner. They were looking at us with 
 curiosity, and were evidently determined to inter 
 cept us. 
 
 "Julie, consider! There may be great danger." 
 
 "If you are endangered, why should not I be? 
 This is not the night, Ernanton, on which you should 
 ask me to leave you." 
 
 " Then I shall at least remain here," said I. " Go 
 to the head, Blaise. But if there is a challenge, I 
 shall answer it. Perhaps they will not know us and 
 we can make them think we are friends." 
 
 He rode forward with sparkling eyes, although 
 not before casting one glance of solicitude at Jean 
 notte, who did not leave her mistress. 
 
 The men eagerly looked to their arms as they 
 rode, and they exchanged conjectures in low, quick 
 tones, casting many a curious look at the approach 
 ing force. Julie and I kept silence, I wondering 
 what would be the outcome of this encounter.
 
 454 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 Suddenly, when the head of their long, somewhat 
 straggling line had just reached the junction, and 
 Blaise was but a short distance from it, came from 
 their leader La Chatre's equerry, I think the 
 order to halt, and then the clear, sharp cry : 
 
 "Who goes there?" 
 
 Before I could answer, a familiar voice near their 
 leader cried out : 
 
 " It is his company, La Tournoire's, I swear 
 it ! I know the big fellow at the head." 
 
 The voice was that of the foppish, cowardly ras 
 cal of De Berquin's band. I now saw that the three 
 fellows left by Blaise at Maury were held as prisoners 
 by the governor's troops. Poor Jacques, doubtless, 
 thought to get his freedom or some reward for cry 
 ing out our identity. 
 
 " I shall wring your neck yet, lap-dog ! " roared 
 Blaise. 
 
 All chance of passing under false colors was now 
 gone. A battle with thrice our force seemed immi 
 nent. What would befall Julie if they should be 
 too much for us ? The thought made me sick with 
 horror. At that instant I remembered something. 
 
 "Halt!" I cried to the men. "I shall return 
 in a moment, sweetheart. Monsieur, the captain," 
 and I rode forward towards the leader of the gov 
 ernor's troops, "your informant speaks truly. Per 
 mit me to introduce myself. I am the Sieur de
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 455 
 
 la Tournoire, the person named in that order." 
 With which I politely handed him the pass that I 
 had forced from La Chatre, which I had for a time 
 forgotten. 
 
 It was about three hours after midnight, and the 
 moon was not yet very low. The captain, taken by 
 surprise in several respects, mechanically grasped the 
 document and read it. 
 
 . "It is a a pass," he said, presently, staring at 
 it and at me in a bewildered manner. 
 
 "As you see, for myself and all my company," 
 said I ; "signed by M. de la Chatre." 
 
 "Yes, it is his signature." 
 
 " His seal, also, you will observe." 
 
 " I do. Yet, it is strange. Certain orders that 
 I have received, in fact, orders to which I have 
 just been attending, make this very surprising. 
 I cannot understand " 
 
 "It is very simple. While you were attending 
 to your orders, I was making a treaty with M. de 
 la Chatre. In accordance with it, he wrote the 
 pass. He will, doubtless, relate the purport of our 
 interview as soon as you return to the chateau. I 
 know that he is impatient for your coming. There 
 fore, since you have seen the pass, I shall not detain 
 you longer." 
 
 "But I do not know it is, indeed, the writ 
 ing of M. de la Chatre it seems quite right, yet
 
 45 6 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 monsieur, since all is right, you will not object to 
 returning with me to the chateau that M. de la 
 Chatre may verify his pass ? " 
 
 " Since all is right, there is no use in my doing 
 so ; and it would be most annoying to M. de la 
 Chatre to be asked to verify his own writing, espe 
 cially as the very object of this pass was to avoid 
 my being delayed on my march this night." 
 
 The captain, a young and handsome gentleman, 
 with a frank look and a courteous manner, hesitated. 
 
 "Monsieur will understand," I went on, "that 
 every minute we stand here opposes the purpose 
 for which that pass was given." 
 
 " I begin to see," he said, with a look of pleas 
 urable discovery. "You have changed sides, mon 
 sieur ? You have repented of your errors and have 
 put your great skill and courage at the service of 
 M. de la Chatre ? " 
 
 "It is for M. de la Chatre to say what passed 
 between us this evening," said I, with a discreet 
 air. " Then au revoir, captain ! I trust we shall 
 meet again." 
 
 And I took back the pass, and ordered my men 
 forward, as if the young captain had already given 
 me permission to go on. Then I saluted him, and 
 returned to Julie. The captain gazed at us in a 
 kind of abstraction as we passed. His men were 
 as dumbfounded as my own. His foremost horse-
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE. 
 
 men had heard the short conversation concerning 
 the pass, and were, doubtless, as much at a loss 
 as their leader was. When we were well in the 
 mountain road, I heard him give the order to march, 
 and, looking back, I saw them turn wearily up the 
 road to the chateau. We continued to put distance 
 between ourselves and Clochonne. 
 
 On the northern slope of the mountains, we made 
 but one stop. That was at Godeau's, where we had 
 a short rest and some wine. I gave the good Mari 
 anne a last gold piece, received her Godspeed, and 
 took up our march, this time ignoring the forest 
 path to Maury, following the old road southward 
 instead. It would be time to set up our camp 
 when we should be out of the province of Berry. 
 
 It was while we were yet ascending the north 
 ern slope of the mountains, and the moon still 
 shone now and then from the west through the 
 trees, that we talked, Julie and I, of the time that 
 lay before us. It mattered not to me under which 
 form our marriage should be. One creed was to me 
 only a little the better of the two, in that it involved 
 less of subjection, but if the outward profession of 
 the other would facilitate our union, I would make 
 that profession, reserving always my sword and my 
 true sympathies for the side that my fathers had 
 taken. But when I proposed this, Julie said that I 
 ought not even to assume the appearance of having
 
 458 AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 
 
 changed my colors, and .that it was for her, the 
 woman, to adopt mine, therefore she would abjure 
 and we should be married as Protestants. She 
 could answer for the consent of her father, who could 
 not refuse his preserver and hers. It pleased me 
 that she made no mention of her lack of dowry, for 
 their little estate would certainly be confiscated after 
 her father's flight. Judging my love by her own, 
 she knew that I valued herself alone above all the 
 fortunes in the world. We would, then, be united 
 as soon as her father, guided by Frojac, should join 
 us in Guienne. She and her father should then go 
 to Nerac, there to await my return from the war 
 that was now imminent; for I was to continue ad 
 vancing my fortunes by following those of our Henri 
 on the field. Some day our leader would overcome 
 his enemies and mount the throne that the fated 
 Henri III. ailing survivor of three short-lived 
 brothers would soon leave vacant. Then our 
 King would restore us our estates, I should rebuild 
 La Tournoire, and there we should pass our days in 
 the peace that our Henri's accession would bring 
 his kingdom. Blaise should marry Jeannotte and 
 be our steward. 
 
 So we gave word to our intentions and hopes, 
 those that I have here written and many others. 
 Some have been realized, and some have not, but 
 all that I have here written have been.
 
 THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE, 459 
 
 Once, years after that night, having gone up to 
 Paris to give our two eldest children a glimpse of 
 the court, we were walking through the gallery built 
 by our great Henri IV., to connect the Louvre with 
 the Tuileries, when my son asked me who was the 
 painted fat old lady that was staring so hard at him 
 as if she had seen him before. In turn I asked the 
 Abbe Brantome, who happened to be passing. 
 
 " It is the Marquise de Pirillaume," he said. " She 
 was a gallant lady in the reign of Henri III. She 
 was Mile. d'Arency and very beautiful." 
 
 I turned my eyes from her to Julie at my side, 
 to Julie*, as fair and slender and beautiful still as on 
 that night when we rode together with my soldiers 
 towards Guienne, in the moonlight. 
 
 THE END.
 
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 book. 
 
 Small I2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 225 pages . $1.25 
 
 A most interesting and vivacious tale, dealing with society life 
 at the Hub, with perhaps a tinge of the flavor of Vagabondia. The 
 story has appeared serially in The Ladies' Home Journal, where it 
 was received with marked success. We are not as yet at liberty to 
 give the true name of the author, who hides her identity under the 
 pen name, Margaret Allston, but she is well known in literature. 
 
 Memory Street. By MARTHA BAKER DUNN. 
 Author of " The Sleeping Beauty," etc. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1-2$ 
 
 An exceedingly beautiful story, delineating New England life and 
 character. The style and interest will compare favorably with the 
 work of such writers as Mary E. Wilkins, Kate Douglas Wiggin, 
 and Sarah Orne Jewett. The author has been a constant con 
 tributor to the leading magazines, and the interest of her previous 
 work will assure welcome for her first novel. 
 
 \Vinffred. A STORY OF THE CHALK CLIFFS. By S. 
 
 BARING GOULD. 
 Author of " Mehala," etc. 
 Library izmo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages . $i 50 
 
 A striking novel of English life in the eighteenth century by this 
 well known writer. The scene is laid partly in rural Devonshire, 
 and partly in aristocratic London circles. 
 
 At the Court Of the King I BEING ROMANCES OF 
 FRANCE. By G. HEMBERT WESTLEY, editor of " For Love's 
 Sweet Sake." 
 
 With a photogravure frontispiece from an original drawing. 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1-25 
 
 Despite the prophecies of some literary experts, the historical 
 romance is still on the high tide of popular favor, as exemplified by 
 many recent successes. We feel justified, consequently, in issuing 
 these stirring romances of intrigue and adventure, love and war, at 
 the Courts of the French Kings.
 
 LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 Rebel. By HULBERT FULLER. 
 Author of " Vivian of Virginia." 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 375 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 A powerful story of sociological questions. The scene is laid in 
 Chicago, the hero being a professor in " Rockland University," 
 whose protest against the unequal distribution of wealth and the 
 wretched condition of workmen gains for him the enmity of the 
 " Savior Oil Company," through whose influence he loses his posi 
 tion. His after career as a leader of laborers who are fighting 
 to obtain their rights is described with great earnestness. The 
 character drawing is vigorous and varied, and the romantic plot 
 holds the interest throughout. The Albany Journal is right in 
 pronouncing this novel " an unusually strong story." It can hardly 
 fail to command an immense reading public. 
 
 A Georgian ActreSS. By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE. 
 Author of " Mademoiselle de Berny," " Ye Lyttle Salem 
 
 Maide," etc. 
 With four full-page illustrations from drawings by E. W. D. 
 
 Hamilton. 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 300 pages . $1.50 
 
 An interesting romance of the days of George III., dealing with 
 the life and adventures of a fair and talented young play-actress, 
 the scene of which is laid in England and America. The success of 
 Miss Mackie's previous books will justify our prediction that a new 
 volume will receive an instant welcome. 
 
 God The King fly Brother. A ROMANCE. 
 
 By MARY F. NIXON. 
 Author of " With a Pessimist in Spain," " A Harp of Many 
 
 Chords," etc. 
 
 With a frontispiece by H. C. Edwards. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 An historical tale, dealing with the romantic period of Edward 
 the Black Prince. The scene is laid for the most part in the 
 sunny land of Spain, during the reign of Pedro the Cruel 
 the ally in war of the Black Prince. The well-told story records 
 the adventures of two young English knight-errants, twin brothers, 
 whose family motto gives the title to the book. The Spanish maid, 
 the heroine of the romance, is a delightful characterization, and the 
 love story, with its surprising yet logical denouement, is enthralling.
 
 6 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 Punchinello. By FLORENCE STUART. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 325 pages . $1.50 
 
 A love story of intense power and pathos. The hero is a hunch 
 back (Punchinello), who wins the love of a beautiful young girl. 
 Her sudden death, due indirectly to his jealousy, and the discovery 
 that she had never faltered in her love for him, combine to unbalance 
 his mind. The poetic style relieves the sadness of the story, and 
 the reader is impressed with the power and brilliancy of its concep 
 tion, as well as with the beauty and grace of the execution. 
 
 The Golden Fleece. Translated from the French of 
 Amedee Achard, author of " The Huguenot's Love," etc. 
 Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 450 pages . $ 1.50 
 
 Amedee Achard was a contemporary writer of Dumas, and his 
 romances are very similar to those of that great writer. " The 
 Golden Fleece " compares favorably with " The Three Musketeers " 
 and the other D'Artagnan romances. The story relates the adven 
 tures of a young Gascon gentleman, an officer in the army sent by 
 Louis XIV. to assist the Austrians in repelling the Turkish Invasion 
 under the celebrated Achmet Kiuperli. 
 
 The Good Ship York. By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 Author of " The Wreck of the Grosvenor" " A Sailor's Sweet 
 heart," etc. 
 Library I2tno, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages $i .50 
 
 A romantic and exciting sea tale, equal to the best work of this 
 famous writer, relating the momentous voyage of the clipper ship 
 York, and the adventures that befell Julia Armstrong, a passenger, 
 and George Hardy, the chief mate. 
 
 " Mr. Russell has no rival in the line of marine fiction." Mail and Express. 
 
 Tom OsSingtOn'S GhOSt. By RICHARD MARSH. 
 Author of " Frivolities," " Ada Vernham, Actress," etc. Illus 
 trated by Harold Pifford. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 325 pages . $1.50 
 
 " I read ' Tom Ossington's Ghost ' the other night, and was afraid to go up-stairs 
 in the dark after it." Truth. 
 
 "An entrancing book, but people with weak nerves had better not read it at 
 night." To-day. 
 
 " Mr. Marsh has been inspired by an entirely original idea, and has worked it put 
 with great ingenuity. We like the weird but not repulsive story better than anything 
 he has ever dene." Werld.
 
 LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 The Glory and Sorrow of Norwich. By 
 
 M. M. BLAKE. 
 Author of "The Blues and the Brigands," etc., etc., with 
 
 twelve full-page illustrations. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 315 pages . $1.50 
 
 The hero of this romance, Sir John de Reppes, is an actual 
 personage, and throughout the characters and incidents are instinct 
 with the spirit of the age, as related in the chronicles of Froissart. 
 Its main claim for attention, however, is in the graphic representa 
 tion of the age of chivalry which it gives, forming a series of brilliant 
 and fascinating pictures of mediaeval England, its habits of thought 
 and manner of life, which live in the mind for many a day after 
 perusal, and assist to a clearer conception of what is one of the most 
 charming and picturesque epochs of history. 
 
 The flistress of flaidenwood. By HULBERT 
 
 FULLER. 
 
 Author of " Vivian of Virginia," " God's Rebel," etc. 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages . . . $1.50 
 A stirring historical romance of the American Revolution, the 
 scene of which for the most part being laid in and about the debatable 
 ground in the vicinity of New York City. 
 
 A TALE OF A LOST CAUSE. By CAPTAIN EWAN 
 MARTIN. 
 
 Author of " The Knight of King's Guard." 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 400 pages, illustrated . $1.50 
 
 A stirring romance of the days of Charles I. and Cromwell in 
 England and Ireland. In its general character the book invites 
 comparison with Scott's " Waverley." It well sustains the reputa 
 tion gained by Captain Martin from " The Knight of King's Guard." 
 
 The Flame Of Life. (IL FUOCO.) Translated from 
 
 the Italian of Gabriel D'Annunzio, author of " Triumph of 
 
 Death," etc., by KASSANDRA VIVARIA, author of "Via 
 
 Lucis." 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages . . . #1.50 
 
 This is the first volume in the Third Trilogy, "The Romances 
 of the Pomegranate," of the three announced by the great Italian 
 writer. We were fortunate in securing the book, and also in securing 
 the services as translator of the talented author of " Via Lucis," 
 herself an Italian by birth.
 
 Selections from 
 
 L. C. Page and Company's 
 
 List of Fiction* 
 
 An Enemy to the King. (Thirtieth 
 
 FROM THE RECENTLY DISCOVERED MEMOIRS OF THE 
 SlEUR DE LA TOURNOIRE. By ROBERT NEILSON STE 
 
 PHENS. 
 
 Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 
 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, 460 pages . $1.50 
 
 "Brilliant as a play ; it is equally brilliant as a romantic novel." Philadelphia 
 Press. 
 
 " Those who love chivalry, fighting, and intrigue will find it, and of good quality, 
 in this book." New York Critic. 
 
 The Continental Dragoon. (Eighteenth 
 
 A ROMANCE OF PHILIPSE MANOR HOUSE, IN 1778. By 
 
 ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS. 
 Author of " An Enemy to the Kinjf.* 
 Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 Library i amo, cloth decorative, 3O< t pages . . . $1.50 
 
 "It has the sterling qualities of strong dramatic writing, and ranks among the 
 most spirited and ably written historical romances of the season. An impulsive ap 
 preciation of a soldier who is a soldier, a man who is a man, a hero who is a hero, is 
 one of the most captivating of Mr. Stephens's charms of manner and style." 
 Boston Herald. 
 
 The Road tO PariS. (Sixteenth Thousand) By ROBERT 
 
 NEILSON STEPHENS. 
 Author of " An Enemy to the King," The Continental Dra 
 
 goon," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 500 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 "Vivid* and picturesque in style, well conceived and full of action, the novel is 
 absorbing from cover to cover." Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 " In the line of historical romance, few books of the season will equal Rober* 
 Neilson Stephens'* ' The Road to Parig.' " Cincinnati Timts-Star.
 
 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY S 
 
 A Gentleman Player. (Thirty-fifth Thousand.} HIS 
 
 ADVENTURES ON A SECRET MISSION FOR QUEEN ELIZA 
 BETH. By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS. 
 
 Author of " An Enemy to the King," " The Continental Dra 
 goon," " The Road to Paris," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 450 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 " A thrilling historical romance. ... It is a well-told tale of mingled romance 
 and history, and the reader throughout unconsciously joins in the flight and thrills 
 with the excitement of the dangers and adventures that befall the fugitives." 
 Chicago Tribune. 
 
 " ' A Gentleman Player ' is well conceived and well told." Boston Journal. 
 
 Rose a Charlitte. (Eighth Thousand) AN ACADIEN 
 
 ROMANCE. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, 
 Author of " Beautiful Joe," etc. 
 Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 500 pages . . . $1-50 
 
 "A very fine novel we unhesitatingly pronounce it ... one of the books that 
 stamp themselves at once upon the imagination and remain imbedded in the memory 
 long after the covers are closed." Literary World, Boston. 
 
 Deficient Saints. A TALE OF MAINE. By MARSHALL 
 
 SAUNDERS. 
 
 Author of " Rose a Charlitte," " Beautiful Joe," etc. 
 Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 400 pages . . . $1-50 
 
 " The tale is altogether delightful ; it is vitally charming and expresses a quiet 
 power that sparkles with all sorts of versatile beauty." Boston Ideas: 
 
 Her Sailor. A NOVEL. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS. 
 Author of " Rose a Charlitte," " Beautiful Joe," etc. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 325 pages $1-25 
 
 A story of modern life of great charm and pathos, dealing with 
 the love affairs of an American girl and a naval officer. 
 
 " A love story, refreshing and sweet." Utica Herald. 
 
 "The wayward petulance of the maiden, who half-resents the matter-of-course 
 wooing and wedding, her graceful coquetry, and final capitulation are prettily told, 
 making a fine character sketch and an entertaining story." Bookseller, Chica^ y.
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 Pretty IVlichal. A ROMANCE OF HUNGARY. By MAURUS 
 
 JOKAI. 
 Author of " Black Diamonds," " The Green Book," " Midst the 
 
 Wild Carpathians," etc. 
 Authorized translation by R. Nisbet Bain 
 Illustrated with a photogravure frontispiece of the great Mag 
 
 yar writer. 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, 325 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 " It is at once a spirited tale of ' border chivalry,' a charming love story full of 
 genuine poetry, and a graphic picture of life in a country and at a period both equally 
 new to English readers." Literary World, London. 
 
 Midst the Wild Carpathians. By MAURUS 
 
 JOKAI. 
 
 Author of " Black Diamonds," " The Lion of Janina," etc. 
 Authorized translation by R. Nisbet Bain. 
 Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 "The story is absorbingly interesting and displays all the_ virility of Jokai's 
 powers, his genius of description, his keenness of characterization, his subtlety of 
 humor, and his consummate art in the progression of the novel from one apparent 
 climax to another." Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 In Kings' Houses. A ROMANCE OF THE REIGN OF 
 
 QUEEN ANNE. By JULIA C. R. DORR. 
 Author of " A Cathedral Pilgrimage," etc. 
 Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 400 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 " We close the book with a wish that the author may write more romances of the 
 history of England which she knows so well." Bookman, New York. 
 
 " A fine strong story which is a relief to come upon. Related with charming, 
 simple art." Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 Omar the Tentmaker. A ROMANCE OF OLD 
 
 PERSIA. By NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. 
 Illustrated by F. T. Merrill. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages . . . $i-5 
 
 "The story itself is beautiful and it is beautifully written. It possesses the true 
 spirit of romance, and is almost poetical in form. The author has undoubtedly been 
 inspired by his admiration for the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam to write this story of 
 which Omar is the hero." Troy Times. 
 
 " Mr. Dole has built a delightful romance." Chicago Chronicle. 
 
 " It is a strong and vividly written story, full of the lif and spirit of romance." 
 New Orleans Picayune.
 
 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY S 
 
 A TALE OF PARIS. By ELWYN BARRON. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages $1.50 
 
 " Bright descriptions of student life in Paris, sympathetic views of human frailty, 
 and a dash of dramatic force, combine to form an attractive story. The book contains 
 some very strong scenes, plenty of life and color, and a pleasant tinge of humor. 
 ... It has grip, picturesqueness, and vivacity." Tlie Speaker, London. 
 
 "A study of deep human interest, in which pathos and humor both play their 
 parts. The descriptions of life in the Quartier Latin are distinguished for their 
 freshness and liveliness." St. James Gazette, London. 
 
 " A romance sweet as violets." Town Topics, New York. 
 
 In Old New York. A ROMANCE. By WILSON BAR 
 RETT, author of " The Sign of the Cross," etc., and ELWYN 
 BARRON, author of " Manders." 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 350 pages $1.50 
 
 " A novel of great interest and vigor." Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 " ' In Old New York ' is worthy of its distinguished authors." Chicago Times- 
 Herald. 
 
 " Intensely interesting. It has an historical flavor that gives it a substantial value." 
 Boston Globe. 
 
 The Golden Dog. A ROMANCE OF QUEBEC. By 
 
 WILLIAM KIRBY. 
 New authorized edition. 
 Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 620 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 " A powerful romance of love, intrigue, and adventure in the time of Louis XV. 
 and Mme. de Pompadour, when the French colonies were making their great 
 struggle to retain for an ungrateful court the fairest jewels in the colonial diadem of 
 France." New York Herald. 
 
 The Knight of King's Guard. A ROMANCE OF 
 
 THE DAYS OF THE BLACK PRINCE. By EWAN MARTIN. 
 
 Illustrated by Gilbert James. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . #1.50 
 
 An exceedingly well written romance, dealing with the romantic 
 period chronicled so admirably by Froissart. The scene is laid at a 
 border castle between England and Scotland, the city of London, 
 and on the French battle-fields of Cressy and Poitiers. Edward the 
 Third, Queen Philippa, the Black Prince, Bertrand du Guesclin, are 
 all historical characters, accurate reproductions of which give life 
 and vitality to the romance. The character of the hero is especially 
 well drawn.
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 The Making of a Saint. By w. SOMERSET 
 
 MAUGHAM. 
 
 Illustrated by Gilbert James. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 " An exceedingly strong story of original motive and design. . . . The scenes are 
 imbued with a spirit of frankness . . . and in addition there is a strong dramatic 
 flavor." Philadelphia Press. 
 
 " A sprightly tale abounding in adventures, and redolent of the spirit of mediaeval 
 Italy." Brooklyn Times. 
 
 Friendship and Folly. A NOVEL. By MARIA 
 
 LOUISE POOL. 
 Author of " Dally," " A Redbridge Neighborhood," " In a Dike 
 
 Shanty," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 "The author handles her elements with skilful fingers fingers that feel their 
 way most truthfully among the actual emotions and occurrences of nineteenth 
 century romance. Hers is a frank, sensitive touch, and the result is both complete 
 and full of interest." Boston Ideas. 
 
 " The story will rank with the best previous work of this author." Indianapolis 
 News. 
 
 The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore. 
 
 A FARCICAL NOVEL. By HAL GODFREY. 
 Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry. 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 " A fanciful, laughable tale of two maiden sisters of uncertain age who are induced, 
 by their natural longing for a return to youth and its blessings, to pay a large sum 
 for a mystical water which possesses the value of setting backwards the hands of 
 time. No more delightfully fresh and original book has appeared since ' Vice 
 Versa' charmed an amused world. It is well written, drawn to the life, and full of 
 the most enjoyable humor." Boston Beacon. 
 
 The Paths Of the Prudent. By J. S. FLETCHER. 
 Author of " When Charles I. Was King," " Mistress Spitfire," etc. 
 Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 " The story has a curious fascination for the reader, and the theme and characters 
 are handled with rare ability." Scotsman. 
 
 "Dorinthia is charming. The story is told with great humor." Pall Mall 
 Gazette. 
 
 " An excellently well told story, and the reader's interest is perfectly sustained to 
 the very end." Punch,
 
 6 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 CrOSS Trails. By VICTOR WAITE. 
 Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 Library 12010, cloth decorative, 450 pages . . . |i-5O 
 
 " A Spanish- American novel of unusual interest, a brilliant, dashing, and stirring 
 story, teeming with humanity and life. Mr. Waite is to be congratulated upon the 
 strength with which he has drawn his characters." San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 " Every page is enthralling." Academy. 
 
 " Full of strength and reality." Athenceum. 
 
 " The book is exceedingly powerful." Glasgow Herald. 
 
 Bijll the Dancer. By JAMES BLYTHE PATTON. 
 Illustrated by Horace Van Rinth. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 350 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 " A novel of Modern India. . . . The fortunes of the heroine, an Indian nautch- 
 girl, are told with a vigor, pathos, and a wealth of poetic sympathy that makes the 
 book admirable from first to last." Detroit Free Press. 
 
 "A remarkable book." Bookman. 
 
 " Powerful and fascinating." Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 "A vivid picture of Indian life." Academy, London. 
 
 Drives and Puts. A BOOK OF GOLF STORIES. By 
 
 WALTER CAMP and LILIAN BROOKS. 
 Small I2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 250 pages . $1.25 
 
 " It will be heartily relished by all readers, whether golfers or not." Boston 
 Ideas. 
 
 "Decidedly the best golf stories I have read." Milwaukee Journal. 
 
 " Thoroughly entertaining and interesting in every page, and is gotten out with 
 care and judgment that indicate rare taste in bookmaking." Chicago Saturday 
 Evening Herald. 
 
 Via LllCis. By KASSANDRA VIVARIA. 
 With portrait of the author. 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 480 pages . . . $1-50 
 
 '"Via Lucis'is we say it unhesitatingly a striking and interesting produc 
 tion." London Athenteum. 
 
 "Without doubt the most notable novel of the summer is this strong story of 
 Italian life, so full of local color one can almost see the cool, shaded patios and the 
 flame of the pomegranate blossom, and smell the perfume of the grapes growing on 
 the hillsides. It is a story of deep and passionate heart interests, of fierce loves and 
 fiercer hates, of undisciplined natures that work out their own bitter destiny of woe. 
 There has hardly been a finer piece of portraiture than that of the child Arduina, 
 the child of a sickly and unloved mother and a cruel and vindictive father, a mor 
 bid, q^ueer, lonely little creature, who is left to grow up without love or training of 
 any kind." New Orleans Picayune.
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 ** To Amis ! " BEING SOME PASSAGES FROM THE EARLY 
 LIFE OF ALLAN OLIPHANT, CHIRURGEON, WRITTEN BY 
 HIMSELF, AND NOW SET FORTH FOR THE FIST TIME. 
 By ANDREW BALFOUR. 
 
 Illustrated by F. W. Glover. 
 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 575 pages . . . $1-50 
 
 " A tale of ' Bonnie Tweedside,' and St. Dynans and Auld Reekie, a fair picture 
 of the.country under misrule and usurpation and all kinds of vicissitudes. Allan Oli- 
 phant is a great hero." Chicago Times-Herald. 
 
 "A recital of thrilling interest, told with unflagging vigor." Globe. 
 
 " An unusually excellent example of a semi-historic romance." World. 
 
 The River Of Pearls; OR, THE RED SPIDER.. A 
 CHINESE ROMANCE. By RENE DE PONT-JEST. 
 
 With sixty illustrations from original drawings by Felix Re- 
 gamey. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, 300 pages . . . $1.50 
 
 Close acquaintance with the manners and customs of the Chinese 
 has enabled the author to write a story which is instructive as well 
 as interesting. The book, as a whole, shows the writer to be pos 
 sessed of a strong descriptive faculty, as well as keen insight into 
 the characters of the people of whom he is writing. The plot is 
 cleverly conceived and well worked out, and the story abounds with 
 incidents of the most exciting and sensational character. Enjoy 
 ment of its perusal is increased by the powerful illustrations of Felix 
 Regamey. 
 
 The book may be read with profit by any one who wishes to 
 realize the actual condition of native life in China. 
 
 Of the Brigade. A ROMANCE OF THE IRISH 
 BRIGADE IN FRANCE DURING THE TIME OF Louis THE 
 FOURTEENTH. By L. MCMANUS. 
 
 Author of "The Silk of the Kine," "The Red Star," etc. 
 
 Illustrated. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative, 250 pages . . . |i-25 
 
 The scene of this romance is partly at the siege of Crimona (held 
 by the troops of Louis XIV.) by the Austrian forces under Prince 
 Eugene. During the siege the famous Irish Brigade renders valiant 
 service, and the hero a dashing young Irishman is in the thick 
 of the fighting. He is also able to give efficient service in unravel 
 ling a political intrigue, in which the love affairs of the hero and the 
 heroine are interwoven.
 
 8 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 
 
 Frivolities. ESPECIALLY ADDRESSED TO THOSE WHO ARE 
 
 TIRED OF BEING SERIOUS. By RICHARD MARSH. 
 Author of " Tom Ossington's Ghost," etc. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 340 pges . . . $ 1.50 
 
 A dozen stories in an entirely new vein for Mr. Marsh. The 
 humor is irresistible, and carries the reader on breathlessly from one 
 laugh to another. The style, though appealing to a totally different 
 side of complex human nature, is as strong and effective as the 
 author's intense and dramatic work in " Tom Ossington's Ghost." 
 
 Sons Of Adversity. A ROMANCE OF QUEEN ELIZA- 
 
 BETH'S TIME. By L. COPE CORNFORD. 
 Author of " Captain Jacobus," etc. 
 Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 Library ismo, cloth decorative, 325 pages . . . ." $1.25 
 
 " A tale of adventure on land and sea at the time when Protestant England and 
 Catholic Spain were struggling for naval supremacy. Spanish conspiracies against 
 the peace of good Queen Bess, a vivid description of the raise of the Spanish siege of 
 Leyden by the combined Dutch and English forces, sea fights, the recovery of stolen 
 treasure, are all skilfully woven elements in a plot of unusual strength." Pitisburg 
 Bulletin. 
 
 The COUnt Of Nideck. FROM THE FRENCH OF 
 ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN, TRANSLATED AND ADAPTED BY 
 RALPH BROWNING FISKE. 
 
 Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, 375 pages . . . $ 1.25 
 
 "'The Count of Nideck,' adapted from the French of Erckmann-Chatrian by 
 Ralph Browning Fiske, is a most interesting tale, simply told, and moving with 
 direct force to the end in view." Minneapolis Times. 
 
 " Rapid in movement, it abounds in dramatic incident, furnishes graphic descrip 
 tions of the locality, and is enlivened with a very pretty love story." Troy Budget. 
 
 Mtlfiel la ; OR, LE SELVE. By OUIDA. 
 Illustrated by M. B. Prendergast. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 250 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 " Ouida's literary style is almost perfect in ' Muriella.' " Chicago Times- 
 Herald. 
 
 "'Muriella' is an admirable example of the author's best work." Brooklyn 
 Times. 
 
 "It dwells in the memory, and bears the dramatic force, tragic interest, and 
 skilfulness of treatment that mark the work of Ouida when at her best." Pittsburg 
 Bulletin.
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 The Archbishop's Unguarded Moment. 
 
 By OSCAR FAY ADAMS. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 300 pages $1.25 
 
 " A very captivating volume." Evening Wisconsin. 
 " Brimming over with humor." Chicago Chronicle. 
 
 " He who cares to pass a few hours in quiet enjoyment and subdued laughter will 
 do well to become the possessor of this clever volume." American, Philadelphia. 
 
 The Works of Gabriel d'Annunzio. 
 
 The Triumph of Death. 
 The Intruder. 
 The Maidens of the Rocks. 
 The Child of Pleasure. 
 
 Each, i vol., library I2mo, cloth decorative . . $1.50 
 
 " The writer of the greatest promise to-day in Italy, and perhaps one of the most 
 unique figures in contemporary literature, is Gabriel d'Annunzio, the poet-novelist." 
 The Bookman. 
 
 nig. jL>vciy ucutn id JUMIIICU ill me ian IIUIL 11 iiiuiiiiiidLCv> ciiuci me unruTCa w UKC 
 
 actions of the man and woman who here stand revealed. It is deadly true. The 
 author holds the mirror up to nature, and the reader, as he sees his own experiences 
 duplicated in passage after passage, has something of the same sensation as all of us 
 know on the first reading of George Meredith's ' Egoist.' Reading these pages is 
 like being out in the country on a dark night in a storm. Suddenly a flash of light 
 ning comes and every detail of your surroundings is revealed." Review of the 
 Triumph of Death, in the New York Evening Sun. 
 
 Ye Lyttle Salem Maide. A STORY OF WITCH 
 CRAFT. By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE. 
 
 With four full-page photogravures from drawings by E. W. D. 
 Hamilton. 
 
 Printed on deckle-edged paper, with gilt top, and bound in 
 cloth decorative, 321 pages $1-50 
 
 A tale of the days of the reign of superstition in New England, 
 and of a brave " lyttle maide " of Salem Town, whose faith and 
 hope and unyielding adherence to her word of honor form the basis 
 of a most attractive story. Several historical characters are intro 
 duced, including the Rev. Cotton Mather and Governor and Lady 
 Phipps, and a very convincing picture is drawn of Puritan life during 
 the latter part of the seventeenth century. An especial interest is 
 added to the book by the illustrations, reproduced by the photo 
 gravure process from originals by E. W. D. Hamilton.
 
 IO L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY S 
 
 Mademoiselle de Berny. A STORY OF VALLEY 
 
 FORGE. By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE. 
 With five full-page photogravures from drawings by Frank T. 
 
 Merrill. 
 Printed on deckle-edged paper, with gilt top, and bound in 
 
 cloth decorative, 272 pages . . . . . $1.50 
 
 " The charm of ' Mademoiselle de Berny ' lies in its singular sweetness." Boston 
 Herald. 
 
 " One of the very few choice American historical stories." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " Real romance . . . admirably written." Washington Post. 
 
 " A stirring romance, full of life and action from start to finish." Toledo Daily 
 Blade. 
 
 " Of the many romances in which Washington is made to figure, this is one of the 
 most fascinating, one of the best." Boston Courier. 
 
 Captain FraCaSSe. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 
 OF GAUTIER. By ELLEN MURRAY BEAM. 
 Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, 575 pages . . . $1.25 
 
 " The story is one of the best in romantic fiction, for upon it Gautier lavished his 
 rare knowledge of the twelfth century. San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 " One of those rare stories in which vitality is abundant. New York Herald. 
 
 In Guiana Wilds. A STUDY OF Two WOMEN. By 
 
 JAMES RODWAY. 
 
 Author of " In the Guiana Forest," etc. 
 Library I2mo, cloth, decorative, illustrated, 250 pages $'-25 
 
 " In Guiana Wilds " may be described as an ethnological 
 romance. A typical young Scotchman becomes, by the force of 
 circumstances, decivilized, and mates with a native woman. 
 
 It is a psychological study of great power and ability. 
 
 The Gray House of the Quarries. By MARY 
 
 HARRIOTT NORRIS. 
 
 With a frontispiece etching by Edmund H. Garrett. 
 8vo, cloth decorative, 500 pages . . . . . $1.50 
 
 "The peculiar genre, for which, in a literary sense, all must acknowledge obliga 
 tion to the author of a new type, is the Dutch- American species. The church-goings, 
 the courtings, the pleasures and sorrows of a primitive people, their lives and deaths, 
 weddings, suicides, births, and burials, are Rembrandt and Rubens pictures on a 
 fresh canvas." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " The fine ideal of womanhood in a person never once physically described will 
 gratify the highess tone of the period, and is an ennobling conception." Time and 
 the Hour, Boston.
 
 LIST OF FICTION I I 
 
 Of Virginia.. BEING THE MEMOIRS OF OUR 
 FIRST REBELLION, BY JOHN VIVIAN, ESQ., OF MIDDLE 
 PLANTATION, VIRGINIA. By HULBERT FULLER. 
 
 With ten full-page illustrations by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, deckle-edge 
 paper, 37 5 pages $1.50 
 
 "A stirring and accurate account of the famous Bacon rebellion." Los Angeles 
 Sunday Times. 
 
 " We shall have to search far to find a better colonial story than this." Denver 
 Republican. 
 
 " A well-conceived, well-plotted romance, full of life and adventure." Chicago 
 Inter-Ocean. 
 
 " A story abounding in exciting incidents and well-told conversations." Boston 
 Journal. 
 
 " Mr. Fuller will find a large circle of readers for his romance who will not be 
 disappointed in their pleasant expectations." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " Instead of using history as a background for the exploits of the hero, the author 
 used the hero to bring out history and the interesting events of those early days in 
 Virginia. The author has preserved the language and customs of the times admi 
 rably." Philadelphia Telegram. 
 
 A rian=at=At*mS. A ROMANCE OF ITALY IN THE DAYS 
 
 OF GIAN GALEAZZO VISCONTI, THE GREAT VIPER. By 
 
 CLINTON SCOLLARD. 
 Author of " Skenandoa," etc. 
 With six full-page illustrations and title-page by E. W. D. 
 
 Hamilton. 
 Library i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, deckle-edge 
 
 paper, 360 pages $1.50 
 
 " The style is admirable, simple, direct, fluent, and sometimes eloquent ; and the 
 story moves with rapidity from start to finish." The Bookman. 
 "A good story." N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. 
 " It is a triumph hi style." Utica Herald. 
 
 Bobbie McDllff . By CLINTON Ross, AUTHOR OF " THE 
 
 SCARLET COAT," " ZULEIKA," ETC. 
 Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. 
 Large 1 6mo, cloth decorative, 260 pages . . . $1.00 
 
 " ' Bobbie McDuff,' by Clinton Ross, is a healthy romance, tersely and vigorously 
 told." Louisville Courier-Journal. 
 
 "It is full of mystery and as fascinating as a fairy tale." San Francisco 
 Chronicle. 
 
 " It is a well-written story, full of surprises and abounding in vivid interest-" 
 The Congregationalist, Boston.
 
 12 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY S 
 
 A Hypocritical Romance AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 By CAROLINE TICKNOR. 
 Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 
 
 Large i6mo, cloth decorative $1.00 
 
 Miss Ticknor, well known as one of the most promising of the 
 younger school of American writers, has never done better work 
 than in the majority of these clever stories, written in a delightful 
 comedy vein. 
 
 A Mad MadOllIia AND OTHER STORIES. By L. 
 
 CLARKSON WHITELOCK. 
 With eight half-tone illustrations. 
 
 I vol., large 1 6mo, cloth decorative . . . . $1.00 
 
 A half dozen remarkable psychological stories, delicate in color 
 
 and conception. Each of the six has a touch of the supernatural, a 
 
 quick suggestion, a vivid intensity, and a dreamy realism that is 
 
 matchless in its forceful execution. 
 
 On the Point. A SUMMER IDYL. By NATHAN HAS- 
 
 KELL DOLE. 
 
 Author of " Not Angels Quite," with dainty half-tone illustra 
 tions as chapter headings. 
 
 I vol., large i6mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.00 
 
 A bright and clever story of a summer on the coast of Maine, 
 fresh, breezy, and readable from the first to the last page. The 
 narrative describes the summer outing of a Mr. Merrithew and his 
 family. The characters are all honest, pleasant people, whom we 
 are glad to know. We part from them with the same regret with 
 which we leave a congenial party of friends. 
 
 Cyrano de Bergerac. A HEROIC COMEDY FROM 
 
 THE FRENCH OF EDWARD ROSTAND, AS ACCEPTED AND 
 PLAYED BY RICHARD MANSFIELD. TRANSLATED BY How 
 ARD THAYER KINGSBURY. 
 
 I vol., cloth decorative, with a photogravure frontis 
 piece $1.00 
 
 i vol., paper boards ....... .50 
 
 The immediate and prolonged success of " Cyrano de Bergerac," 
 in Paris, has been paralleled by Mr. Mansfield's success with an 
 English version, dating from its first night at the Garden Theatre, 
 New York, October 3, 1898. 
 
 As a literary work, the original form of Rostand took high rank ; 
 and the preference of Mr. Mansfield for Mr. Kingsbury's new trans 
 lation implies its superior merit.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 1 
 
 ' - 
 
 
 
 
 ROTO APR 
 
 2 ? 1383 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN S A
 
 3 1970 00497 7028