AN OLD TALE OF HUGUENOT DAYS King or Knave, Which Wins? By the Same Author. THE KING'S HENCHMAN. A Chronicle of the Sixteenth Century. Brought to light and Edited by WILLIAM HENRY JOHNSON. i2mo. Cloth, gilt top, 81.50. KING OR KNAVE, WHICH WINS? An Old Tale of Huguenot Days. EDITED BY WILLIAM HENRY JOHNSON. Charmante Gabrielle, PeroS de mille dards, Quand la gloire m'appelle A la suite de Mars, Cruelle de"partie ! Que ne suis-je sans vie Ou sans amour? ( HBNRY OF NAVARRE to GABRIELLE D'ESTREES.) Every one carries his destiny in his own bosom. . . . Fate is but the deepest current of one's nature. (Louis DE BBLLBGARDE to GABRIBLLE D'ESTRBES.) BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 1899. Copyright, 1899, BY WILLIAM HENRY JOHNSON. All rights reserved. SStuijersttg JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. INTRODUCTION IN editing the second of the manuscripts found in Pierre Fourcade's strong box only a few words of preface are needed. That it is not the work of a contemporary of Henry the Great seems quite certain. The modern spell- ing and the simple, uninvolved style clearly point to a later age and suggest the probability that a recent hand, perhaps a Fourcade's of a subsequent generation, ambitious of giving literary form to the work, recast and moulded together materials contained in the family records, with some imaginative additions, in the following romantic story. Yet certainly the unknown writer has adhered very closely to facts. On this point the most cursory reading of French History is convin- cing. At the first I was inclined to resent the extraordinary levity which he ascribes to Henry, as an unwarrantable aspersion of the v Introduction greatest of French monarchs, "the only one who lives in the memory of the people." But I have found a strong side-light thrown on his picture in this passage of M. de Lescure in his Lettres d' Amour de Henri IV, " Nous avons compte jusqu' a cinquante-six maitresses, dont il existe des traces authentiques ; mais la plu- part etaient des maitresses de hasard, d'occasion, de passade." It is the privilege of the historian to sketch the daring and skilful soldier who won for the Huguenot cause its only successes in the field, achieving brilliant victories where great Coligny had but sustained heroic reverses; the wise ruler who, in an age of bigotry, superior to dogma, gave to his distracted country the bless- ings of peace and union under his broad edict of toleration; the far-seeing statesman who, amid the ceaseless clash of arms, dreamed of a European Federation, the forerunner of uni- versal disarmament and a " parliament of man; " the king who, a democrat at heart, founded the line of Bourbon absolutists. That this man of commanding genius, in so many aspects noble and high-hearted, as wholly devoid of malice or vi Introduction resentment as he was cynically indifferent to creed, was on one side pitifully weak, even his warmest admirers must admit. Unhappily, it is chiefly with this side that the present narrative is concerned. It is not Henry the Great, but Henry the Lover, who appears in the following pages. THE EDITOR. Vll CONTENTS CHAPTER THE FIRST PAGE How a jolly wood-cutter, having talked himself into the favor of a certain lady's maids, founds a Triple Alli- ance of which we shall hear more I CHAPTER THE SECOND How the King of Navarre receives certain tidings vastly encouraging to his hopes in more than one direction . 26 CHAPTER THE THIRD How Jean Fourcade, on his way to the sea, comes to the Mermaid and meets one William Shakespeare, who saves him from burning 31 CHAPTER THE FOURTH How Jean Fourcade, sailing with Drake to fight the Invincible Armada, witnesses his famous method of " Singeing the Spanish King's beard ".... 44 CHAPTER THE FIFTH How the King of Navarre, following love's light, encoun- ters a Ghost and lays it 67 CHAPTER THE SIXTH How Gabrielle d'Estrees, picking wild flowers in the wood, gets a glimpse of the Magic Fleur-de-lis and straightway falls under its glamour 86 ix Contents CHAPTER THE SEVENTH PACK How the Sieur d'Estrees unwittingly binds faster the spell of the Fleur-de-lis, and how Louis de Bellegarde, coming to the chateau of Coeuvres in quest of his heart, finds its keeper enchanted and his heart shiver- ing in the cold 98 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH How Henry of Guise makes love while Henry of France makes prayers, and how each fares to his heart's desire 109 CHAPTER THE NINTH How Gaston d'Estrees, coming to his sister as love's advocate, does a fool's errand and helps to bind faster the magic spell 119 CHAPTER THE TENTH How a lady who has failed to fascinate a king fares with a monk 129 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH How Louis de Bellegarde, coming again to plead his love, unknowingly works the spell of the Fleur-de-lis and leaves Gabrielle entranced with the vision .... 138 CHAPTER THE TWELFTH How Jean Fourcade receives a startling commission . . 160 CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH How Jean Fourcade finds a mortal enemy whose presence is more precious than the dearest friend's 165 X Contents CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH PACK How, Gabrielle walking in the wood and dreaming of the Fleur-de-lis, it suddenly appears and affrights her . . 173 CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH How Gabrielle, having summoned courage, will fain pluck the Fleur-de-lis, but clasps a thorn and is rudely pricked 185 CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH How the King laughs best because he laughs last . . . 197 CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH How hate and revenge, for once, serve a good purpose, and how Jean Fourcade denies himself his heart's desire at the cost of another's peace 205 CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH How the King visits a lady who makes light of the magic spell, but haply meets another who adores it .... 220 CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH How one who is too old to love decides that he is not too old to marry for a consideration 228 CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH How the lady who laughs at the spell gently warns Gabrielle of the grievous ill that is wont to betide damsels dreaming of the Fleur-de-lis 238 xi Contents CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST PAGE How Gabrielle meets the Fleur-de-lis secretly and, dazzled by its brilliancy, makes a fool's bargain, whereupon she is much elated at her shrewdness 255 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND How the Last Enemy of All appears as Jean Fourcade's friend 267 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD How Gabrielle, beginning to be disenchanted, rues her bargain and is exceeding sore and sorrowful, until she is comforted by the coming of him whom she loves 281 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH How the King gives Gaston high promotion, whereat he is much elated, and how another schemes to bring his pride to a fall 295 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH How Jean Fourcade finds his Sophie 301 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH How Louis de Bellegarde, thinking to win Gabrielle, helps to make her bargain fast 312 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH How Gabrielle, seeking to follow her heart, finds that her bargain binds 321 XII ILLUSTRATIONS From Drawings by Clyde O. De Land "SHE WAS ON HER KNEES IN PITIFUL ABASE- MENT" Frontispiece "THE STORY AND THE MANNER OF ITS TELLING MADE A POEM Page II "ONE DAY HENRY PRODUCED A LUTE" ... 96 "PEACEFUL AS AN INFANT LAY ANGLIQUE DE REBOURS" 278 King or Knave PART I CHAPTER THE FIRST How a jolly wood-cutter, having talked himself into the favor of a certain lady's maids, founds a Triple Alliance of which we shall hear more. " DID you notice that queer-looking fel- low ? " said one of two well-mounted cavaliers who jogged easily on the road leading from Saint Jean d'Angely to Poitiers. He turned in his saddle to look at a woodman who was go- ing in the opposite direction with a quick stride. " Pardieu ! " he continued, " it seems to me I have seen that face somewhere and not under a fagot either. Death of my life ! I will ques- tion him." Thereupon he wheeled his horse and was riding after the footman. But his companion, who was older and very stout, called after him peevishly, " Oh, to the devil with your fancies, Mercceur ! You are always imagining God knows what. How could you possibly have seen his face under that immense fagot? " i i King or Knave Then, as the other stopped his horse hesitat- ingly, he added impatiently, " Come on, I tell you. While you are fooling here on the road, dinner will be getting burned. Sacre Dieu ! If there is anything that grieves me, it is an over-done capon, all his fine juices gone up the chimney, to feed spirits, I suppose." " Oh, dinner be damned ! " exclaimed the younger man. Nevertheless, he rejoined his companion, and the two rode on. " You are always thinking," said the first speaker sulkily, " of lining that over-fed paunch. No wonder that His Holiness, when he heard that you would command the army of the League, said that while you would make a meal, Navarre would make a march." " A devilish nice remark that is to be repeated by a younger brother and subordinate," growled the object of the Pope's sarcasm. " Moreover, what does His Holiness know about the mat- ter ? The chair of Saint Peter is the highest authority on points of theology, and in some instances has shown a very creditable judgment in wine and women. But when it is a question of men, bah! that is another story." Meanwhile the woodman strode sturdily on. A queer-looking fellow he was indeed. Of medium stature, his frame was supple and sinewy, his limbs well set, and he walked with the springy step of one to whom fatigue was unknown, albeit his bowed legs suggested that they were more at home in gripping the flanks 2 King or Knave of a horse than in carrying their owner on the humble tasks of a wood-cutter. His coarse blouse and clumsy wooden sabots, the axe on his shoulder, and the weight of the fagot which he carried on his head, steadying it with his left hand, could not conceal his elastic step and erect, bold carriage. But most notable of all was a physiognomy at once homely and fascinating. A nose pro- nouncedly aquiline, towards which the chin rose aspiringly, gave to the lower part of the face a ludicrous expression, as of a caricature of tooth- less old age. This defect was only partially con- cealed by a full jet-black beard and a flowing moustache, turned up at the ends. But what the lower features lacked in dignity, was more than compensated by the marvellous eyes, large, liquid, and lustrous, capable of an infinite range of expression. A massive dome of a forehead, surmounted by thick, curly black locks, com- pleted a physiognomy so striking that, even overshadowed by the great fagot which he bore, it could not fail to arrest attention. " Ventre-saint-gris ! " he said gayly to himself, " that was a perilous encounter. But for this blessed fagot, surely Mercceur would have rec- ognized me. Perhaps his Excellency of May- enne scented his dinner afar. Then no affair of less moment, not even a battle, could delay him. My faith ! if they had been keener, it would have cost me, to buy my freedom, many times over the two hundred and fifty pistoles that I won 3 King or Knave from Mercceur the last game that we played together, ah, let me see, some twelve years ago, if indeed my loving brother-in-law and my guileless mother-in-law would consent to any other release for me than that of the soul from the body." After a while the jolly wood-cutter turned from the highway into a wide avenue fronted by an ancient chateau. Then he threw down his burden by the roadside, removed his coarse cap, flattened by the load which it had borne, and pulled it into better shape. He ran his hand through his curly black locks, and then, to wipe his moist forehead, drew forth from an inner pocket a fine white handkerchief, daintily embroidered. As he shook it out, it emitted a delicate perfume. This touched a chord of memory. He held up the article, snuffed the subtle fragrance, and then, with a sigh, muttered, " One of la belle Corisande's latest gifts. Dear soul ! If she had not grown so fat ! but what can a man do? He can't bind his affections fast to one woman for all time. That were to make love as irksome as marriage. And, as the poet says, ' Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis.' Ah, well ! " As if to cut off further reflection, he quickly wiped his forehead, swung his axe on his shoulder, and resumed his way. Arrived at the chateau, our wood-cutter passed around to the rear and knocked at the kitchen- door. It was opened by a man in white cap and apron who eyed the stranger disdainfully. 4 King or Knave " May I rest me a while here ? " asked the latter, in the broadest Gascon accent. " No. Away with you, and be damned ! " cried the Cerberus of the kitchen. Then he added, " There is no room here for a lazy Gas- con varlet Go to the camp of the Bearnais. All the riff-raff of the South country is gathered there." Then he slammed the door in the new- comer's face. Quite undisturbed, the traveller knocked again. The door was thrown violently open once more by the white-capped man. His eyes blazed at the sight of the same intruder. " A plague on the beggarly dog ! Did I not order you away?" Then he advanced, as if to strike the other. But something in the stranger's eye, together with the sight of the glittering axe-blade, checked him. At the same time a stout, comely woman came up behind and looked over his shoulder. "Nay, Barbezoux," she said, laying a hand, plump and brown, on the chief cook's arm, " let the fellow in. It fairly tickles my ears to hear the old Gascon speech. If he is a true Gascon, I '11 warrant you he has the free use of his tongue. Give him a chance, and his lies will flow so easily and so fast that, if for once he blunders into the truth, you won't have time to notice it." The stout dame's influence with Barbezoux was more potent than his charity. He drew back reluctantly and admitted the stranger. 5 King or Knave The latter stepped in with the same jaunty air as if he had received the most cordial greeting. The room was large and low, ill-lighted by two small windows. Its most cheerful feature was a wide fire-place, in which smouldered a few embers. In the chimney-corner a man in bespattered hose sat dozing, while a tired hound slept at his feet. A fellow sitting astride a wooden bench had in front of him a falcon which he was training. He glanced uncon- cernedly over his shoulder at the new-comer and continued his occupation. In the farthest cor- ner a stripling in page's attire, with a nascent moustache, was conversing in low tones with a pretty and coquettish maid. "Well, comrade, what have you to say for yourself? " said the stout dame, planting herself before the stranger, arms akimbo, her sleeves rolled up to the elbow, displaying large but shapely limbs, smooth and brown. " That I know a fine woman, when I see one," was the prompt reply, accompanied by a courtly bow. This bold sally set the jolly dame laughing. " Oh ! " she cried merrily, " did not I truly say that you would prove yourself a genuine Gascon by your lies?" Nevertheless, what woman is insensible to homage paid to her charms? Ere many min- utes the dark goddess of the kitchen had been so won by the stranger's gallant and sprightly talk that he found himself seated before a huge 6 King or Knave loaf of bread and a smoked beef's tongue, flanked by a great flagon of red wine. Mean- while his hostess, seated opposite, her elbows planted on the table, the sleeves still rolled up, rollicked in the Southern patois, long unfamiliar to her tongue, but dear to her memory. While the traveller's sallies and repartees drew from the stout dame incessant peals of laughter, and his gallant badinage tickled her vanity, the hawker gave an occasional keen glance over his shoulder at the entertaining stranger, even the absorbed young couple paused at times, to catch the passing jest, and Barbezoux's brow grew visibly darker. The jolly wood-cutter, when he had finished his repast, threw himself back in the attitude of one entirely at his ease, his legs stretched out before him. " Ma belle," said he, " you have cared for me most hospitably. Without hearing you speak, I could have sworn that you are from the South. You have the easy manners and the kind heart of the South." " A thousand thanks ! " laughed the dame. " But, my faith ! what a flatterer you are ! " " Not the least bit of a flatterer, I assure you. In my country they call me ' Truthful Henry.' By the way, you have not told me to what province you belong." " My faith ! I come from Roussillon." " Oh ! that is charming. Roussillon is famed for its beautiful women," said he, with a bow to 7 King or Knave his hostess, "and for its old romances. Of course you know the story of the Countess of Roussillon and the Count of Provence." "Eh! What?" exclaimed the woman, "I never have heard it." "Do you tell me that you, a Roussillonaise, do not know that story in which all true lovers delight?" " Oh, if it is a love-story, I must hear it. TelJ it to me, I pray you." "In the olden time, long ago," began the stranger, without more ado, " there was a Count of Roussillon who had a very charming wife. He had also a friend, like himself very renowned in arms, Gardastain, Count of Provence. Through their meeting often, there sprang up a warm at- tachment between this Gardastain and his friend's beautiful wife. It was not long before their secret meetings became known to the Count of Roussillon. But, being by nature crafty and treacherous, he did not let it be seen that he so much as suspected their love. He was biding his time. " Then it chanced that proclamation was made of a great tournament to be held in the borders of Provence. Thereupon the Count of Roussillon sent an invitation to Gardastain to come to his castle on the next day, to consult about the tournament ; and his friend returned word that he would surely come on the morrow for supper. " The next day the Count of Roussillon put on a full suit of mail and, with a half-dozen men- 8 King or Knave at-arms, took the road for the other's castle. They hid themselves in a dark wood ; and when he saw Gardastain approaching, alone and un- armed, he dashed out suddenly upon him and ran him through with his lance. Then he dis- mounted, raised his visor, and, showing his face to the dying man, continued to revile him with every insulting epithet so long as life lasted. Afterwards he ripped open Gardastain's body, cut out his heart, and carried it home with him, wrapped in the banderole of a lance. When he had reached his castle, he said to his head-cook, ' Take this heart of a wild boar and serve it in your most appetizing fashion for supper this evening.' When his wife asked why Gardastain had not come with him, he answered that his friend would appear the next day. " At supper the count did not taste of the dainty ragout which the cook had made of the heart. But the lady ate freely of it. When she had finished her meal, her husband asked how she liked the dish. " ' I have enjoyed it greatly,' she said. 41 ' You needs must,' said he, ' as you loved it so intensely while it lived.' " ' What do you mean? ' asked the lady, dum- founded. " ' I mean,' he answered, ' that you have eaten the heart of the perfidious Gardastain, whom you shamefully loved. What fitter food could one find for a false wife? ' " The lady was stricken mute with horror. 9 King or Knave When she recovered her speech, she said, ' You have acted the base and cowardly assassin that you are. Gardastain deserved a better fate. He never forced my love. Freely I gave it to him, because he was a great and noble soul, the truest knight that ever breathed ; and now, since I have eaten so precious a viand, it would be unseemly to mix it with baser food. Moreover, I shall be happier with him in death than living with his murderer.' "Thereupon the lady left the table. From that day forth no force, nor yet persuasion, could induce her to take a morsel of food. Then her husband, to break her spirit, shut her up in a high tower. One morning, when her maid came, the room was empty. The fair lady's body lay crushed on the stones below. She had been so impatient to join her lover that she could not endure the slow death of starvation." " Ah, the poor lady ! " exclaimed the Pro- vencale, tears starting to her eyes. "Then," continued the stranger, "the Count of Roussillon was rilled with dismay and fled. But the kinsfolk of his wife and of Gardastain took up her body and with great state laid it beside that of her lover in one tomb and raised over them a monument commemorating the virtues of this ill-fated pair and the manner of their death. And to this day lovers are wont to make pilgrimage to their tomb, in the chapel of Roussillon, and lay flowers upon it and there renew their vows of eternal fidelity." 10 King or Knave The story and the manner of its telling made a poem. The narrator, his voice now low and impassioned, then swelling with anger, his eyes now melting, then sparkling, might have been a troubadour of old Provence. The young couple had come near and, their hands stealing together, had thrilled with emo- tion. The hawker had turned from his bird. Even Barbezoux, filled though he was with envious rage, could not refrain from being an eager listener. But the most appreciative hearer was the dark daughter of Roussillon, Diana Bouvary. Strong in her blood was the old poetic feeling of the South. The tale had thrilled generations of her ancestors. When it ended, she heaved a deep sigh. " Dame ! " she cried, " but that was a true love! What think you of it, Barbezoux?" The Jupiter of this petty Olympus, thinking all the while unutterable things of jealous fury, could only express his feelings in an explosive oath and by violently thumping a pan with which he busied himself. Heedless of his anger, the object of his pas- sion fixed her eyes in undisguised admiration on the gifted woodman. What a wonderful fellow he was, surely ! Suddenly a thought came to her. " Do you know, Lisette," she said, turning to the pretty maid, who had scarcely yet recovered from her ecstasy, and was staring wide-eyed at the story-teller, " I believe that the young mis- ii King or Knave tress would be pleased to see this woodman, and hear him talk? He is as good as one of the troubadours that we have heard of." " God's bones, Diana ! You go too far with your silliness," savagely burst out Barbezoux, " You have said enough already to turn the beggar's head. Better put him out of doors and let him go on and see whether he will sponge his next meal so easily. God's blood ! He will tramp many a long day, I dare be sworn, before he will find another woman so soft." His goddess took not the least notice of this explosion. " Go, Lisette," she said, " and tell the young mistress that here is a marvellously entertaining fellow, better than any minstrel that ever I have heard. I believe, on my soul, she will be glad enough to have him wile away an hour for her." The maid disappeared and quickly returned with a summons for the stranger. The latter followed his guide with alacrity and was speedily ushered into the presence of the young chite- laine. She received him with a nod of gracious condescension, while he bowed low and stood at a respectful distance, yet with the same air of imperturbable confidence which he had worn in the kitchen, while his eyes seemed to pay homage to her beauty. She was indeed a creature of marvellous charm. Her slight figure was rounded with 12 King or Knave those graceful curves which nature bestows only on her most favored daughters. A profu- sion of silky hair, golden in hue, rolled back from her temples and gathered in a fleecy mass on the top of her head, set off admirably her finely moulded oval countenance, which glowed with the color of perfect health shining through her clear skin. Eyebrows somewhat darker than her hair, and pencilled as by an artist's hand, surmounted mirthful eyes of deep blue. Her mouth, with its delicately chiselled lips, closed, looked like a dewy rosebud. Opened in smiling, it showed teeth of dazzling whiteness. Picture to yourself a nose of slightly aquiline cast, with fine and sensitive nostrils ; a perfectly rounded chin ; a throat smooth and white as an alabaster column, on which the head was poised with the airy grace of a dove's ; ears delicate in shape and tint as sea-shells, from whose lobes hung pendants of pearl ; hands small, white, and taper, one of them continually toying with a gold chain which encircled her neck, and you will complete the portrait of the famous daughter of the Sieur d'Estrees, Baron of Cceuvres. When she had surveyed the stranger a moment or two with an air of some perplexity, she addressed him in a voice of singular melody : " My maid tells me that you are marvellously entertaining in relating romances of old days. I wonder at such a talent in a woodman. How came you by it? " " My youth, fair demoiselle, was nourished on 13 King or Knave tales of brave knights and beautiful ladies," answered the stranger, with a courtly inclination and an accent which was only Southern enough to give it a certain piquant charm. No sooner did the beautiful Gabrielle hear the voice, than her puzzled look gave place to one of keen intelligence, and her eyes lighted up with suppressed mirth. " Lisette, you need not wait," she said. The maid retired with evident disappointment. Then, with a merry twinkle in her eyes, she turned to the stranger and said, " Now, Mon- sieur Woodcutter, may it please you to favor me with one of those romantic tales with which it seems that your youth has been fed in your humble native cot?" " Pardon me, fair lady," answered the other, bowing low and laying his hand over his heart in most approved courtier-fashion, " why should I resort to ancient tales of fair women, when the most peerless beauty of all ages inspires me ? My only trouble is that my tongue is paralyzed in the presence of charms before which all others fade as surely as the morning star before the sun." " My faith ! " cried the lady, with a merry peal of laughter, " your poor paralyzed tongue does fairly well. God save me from experiencing its full vigor ! I much fear that it is one of those guileful tongues, Monsieur Woodcutter, that are often employed in wooing trusting maids to their woe." The other acknowledged the compliment with King or Knave a profound inclination, with a slight gesture of deprecation. By this time all pretence of disguise was laid aside, and the two were eying each other with full recognition and mutual intelligence. " Come, Monsieur Woodman, be seated," said the lady. He came forward, drew a chair, and sat down opposite and near her. " I wonder," she continued, " at your hardi- hood in coming here a second time. Who would have dreamed of seeing you, and in such a disguise?" " Love, adorable Gabrielle, wings his arrows whithersoever he will, and this coarse blouse covers a wound which only yourself can cure. I am come to crave healing at your hands." " Love indeed ! You lose no time, Monsieur Woodman. Surely it is full early to talk of love, when as yet we scarcely know each other." " I scarcely know you ! I who know only you ! I who since I met you have seen your form in every flower, your eyes in every star, have heard your voice in every breeze ! I who have breathed my vows to you a thousand times in my waking moments, and in my dreams have been blest with your presence, as of an angel ! " The girl paled perceptibly at this outburst. Then she said, in a tone of serious expostulation, " But what a fearful risk you run ! Do you know how near is the Duke of Mayenne's army?" King or Knave " I surely do, since I encountered him as I came hither." "My God! What a peril! How did you escape him? " " I carried on my head an immense fagot which completely hid my face, and as to the rest," glancing humorously at his coarse habili- ments and heavy clogs, " you will admit that my disguise is fairly complete." " But such a risk ! Had he recognized you, what, think you, would have followed ? " "The Bastile, surely; most likely, a stirring bit 'of work, with a fat fee, for black Monsieur de Paris." " Strange man ! And yet you came? " " Ah ! When will you believe, adorable Gabrielle, how little I prize existence apart from you? Did not the hope of winning you bid me live, I would quickly fling away my life. Why should I, a soldier, fear death? The coward dies a thousand times ; a brave man but once. Had I died in seeking your presence, I should have died happy in the thought of perishing in your service." Gabrielle was touched by the evident sincerity of this avowal. She mused a while, her face overcast with deep thought, as if embarrassed by a situation so unexpected. Meanwhile her suitor devoured her with his eyes. He had moved his chair very near, and every breath, deep drawn, seemed laden with passion, as he gazed at her. 16 King or Knave Before this intense ardor Gabrielle involunta- rily shrank. Presently she spoke in a voice that was cold and constrained. " Surely, Monsieur, I have not given you any grounds for speaking thus. You will remember how, when you came here with Monsieur de Rocroix and began to make fine speeches, I even sought to check you with jests." " I well remember, Mademoiselle, that you made merry at my expense. I am homely, forsooth ! Nature did not see fit to cast me in an elegant mould. But you will recall, perhaps, my parting words, how I said that you would soon hear what great things I should do for the love of your beautiful eyes. Already I have put my life in jeopardy for you. And yet I have but made a beginning." " Oh, then, in God's name," she cried with sudden vehemence, " I pray you, Monsieur, let it be both beginning and end. For, if rumor speaks truly of you, the end is wont to be but one thing always, a woman's ruin and shame." "Alas, that I should need to defend myself against so vile a slander ! " exclaimed the other in his most impassioned tone, raising his hand towards heaven in solemn protestation of his innocence, " I whose love has ever been true as yonder bright sun to his orbit ! Constancy is my vice. And yet by my hope of Heaven, I swear to you, most adorable Gabrielle, that all love that ever I have felt before this has been as 2 17 King or Knave the pale glimmer of a candle to this glorious light. See ! I throw myself at your feet, in token of my life-long devotion. I ask no greater boon than that I may be your humblest knight, and may wear your colors on my helm, even as your image is stamped on my soul. Deny me your love, you may. But you cannot withhold from me the joy of serving you with the last throb of my heart, of making your name the rallying-cry for the bravest on the field of battle, and dying happy in giving my last thoughts to you." She shrank still further away, pale before his passion, and withdrew the hand of which he tried to possess himself. " My God ! How you frighten me with your vehemence ! Rise, I pray you, Monsieur. It ill befits you to kneel to me. And to what does all this lead? You speak of love. What can you offer? " " The truest heart in Christendom, a good sword, with a stout arm to wield it, and a full share of such honor as I already possess. These in the present. In the future, an open road to renown and to the summit of human ambition." " Methinks, if you could throw more of sub- stance into the present, by converting your rosy dreams into realities, the future might be left to take care of itself, and you would also have a better chance of being heard. Castles in the air are too shadowy an estate for ordinary folk." 18 King or Knave "Ah, adorable Gabrielle! Such a conver- sion were the work of Divine Providence. Come you, who are so truly divine, and be my Providence. The age of miracles will return, and future glories will be ours in immediate possession." "What wild rhapsody is this, Monsieur? I have not the faith in my divinity which you profess. Indeed, I am so wholly human that my happiness depends on things which I can see and touch. Therefore, not being an enchan- tress, I must decline the role to which you in- vite me. It is more in my nature to deal with accomplished results." " So be it, Mademoiselle, I bow to your will. I must, then, go forth and with my sword win that which will be worthy of your acceptance." " As you will, Monsieur. I offer no encour- agement, nor hold out any hope," said the lady, returning to her former sarcastic manner. " But in enumerating the splendors which you offer, you have made one singular omission. You have said nothing of the Church's blessing." " Ah, Mademoiselle," replied the other, with some confusion, "you know how that matter stands. Surely I am the most miserable of mortals ! " Then, rallying himself, as if with a sudden inspiration, he added quickly, "But there might be a divorce, you know." "That is the wildest flight of fancy that you have yet ventured. Imagine His Holiness granting the dissolution of a legal union with 19 King or Knave one daughter of the Church, in order to pro- mote the marriage of a heretic with another daughter of the Church ! Come now, Monsieur," she added with bitter irony, " let us consider the bargain which you propose. I am asked to sacrifice my good name, and to put myself in succession to Madame de Sauve, and the Rebours, and the Fosseuse, and the Countess of Grammont, and I know not how many besides, to be succeeded in my turn by I know not how many more, and all this for what? For a beggarly place in the present and golden dreams of the future. A thousand thanks, Monsieur! My father's house yields honor enough for me. And should nothing better offer itself, I must even content myself, like your friend, the Queen of England, to live and die a maid. Oh, fie upon you, Monsieur, for a needy trader who would buy a diamond for a handful of copper coins and a mouthful of fine words ! I am but a poor merchant-woman, but I have lost my childish taste for glittering bubbles." The suitor writhed under this sarcasm, but held his ground bravely. He merely bowed and said, " So be it, Mademoiselle. I shall come again, when I shall have more in hand to offer for your acceptance." " Come now, Monsieur Woodman," said the lady, in a lighter vein, " let us forget this folly and agree that we have spent a pleasant half- hour together, but that now the cares of state call you away." 20 King or Knave "I go," said the other, rising. "But surely, beautiful Gabrielle, you will not send away a man who has come hither at the peril of his life without some little guerdon." " Such as what, for instance? " " That I may for a single heavenly moment press your hand." "No, Monsieur; not so much as to touch it. I have already endured enough in letting you speak to me as you have spoken. Be gone quickly, I pray you. My father may come in at any moment. He will be incensed, if he finds you here. When he heard of your former visit, he frowned darkly and said he hoped you would not again see fit to honor his poor house with your presence." " It grieves me to refuse you, Mademoiselle, but here I stay." " To what purpose? " " To the end which I have named. It is little to you that I ask, but a world to me, that I may touch your finger-tips." " Madman ! Do you know what you are do- ing? Every moment that you linger here com- promises me. Should my father find you here, disguised, he will not believe but that you have come with my connivance. And as for the consequences to you, I cannot answer for your life." " That is a poor argument to use, fair Gabri- elle, with one who daily looks death in the face. And, spurned by you, what care I for life? 21 King or Knave See ! I am unarmed. Your father's sword will find an easy victim. If, by denying my request, you bid me stay, I shall at the least die happy at your feet and under your eyes." " What insanity is this ! Your head has been turned by the romances you have read. Once more I beg you, Monsieur, to consider my honor and to go hence quickly." "It is for you, Mademoiselle, to send me away happy as a god or to keep me here, to meet the danger of death. I await your commands." " Oh ! If it must be, dishonorable man ! " she said, flushing with anger. In an instant her suitor seized each hand in one of his and, kneeling, covered them alter- nately with hot kisses, until, with a half-uttered cry, she wrenched herself away and stood look- ing down on him with blazing eyes. " Ten thousand thanks ! " he cried, rising from his knees and disregarding her anger. " Now I go forth irresistible. Adieu, adorable Gabrielle ! When I return, it will be to lay the banners of a conquered army at your feet." With these words he strode from the room and went straight out at the front door of the chateau. He left behind him allies in the garrison of whom he knew not. Lisette, when she was dis- missed by the young lady, had gone no further than the outside of the door. There she stopped and, with her ear at the keyhole, listened with 22 King or Knave growing excitement to all that was said, too keenly intent on catching every word to go away for a moment, though she burned with impatience to tell her story to her fellows. When the stranger took his departure, she burst into the kitchen with an announcement which at once set its occupants agog with ex- citement. In her recital the picturesque features of the interview lost nothing of their interest. She and her auditors felt strangely exalted in having been made, all unawares, actors in a thrilling drama of high life. That the first act only had passed was evident, for Lisette re- peated, with theatrical emphasis, the stranger's parting words, " I shall come again, to lay the banners of a conquered army at your feet." What army? Who was the speaker who promised so grandly? On these interesting points speculation ran high. "The Duke of Mayenne," guessed Gaspard, the page. " Nay," said Diana, " that cannot be. He is a great feeder, they say, and as big as a hogs- head. This gentleman ate sparingly ; and, God knows, he is not stout." " I believe it is the Bearnais," said Lisette, with decision, feeling herself to be an authority on this affair ; " they say he has a passion for adventures." "A devil of a fellow, too, for love-affairs," chimed in Diana, approvingly. " And did you notice how Gascon he talked?" 23 King or Knave " Bah ! " growled Barbezoux, " that Gascon accent was all put on to blind you. And tell me, pray, how the Be"arnais could come here, when the whole royal army lies in his road. He is at the least ten leagues away and has enough to do to keep his skin whole and his tatterde- mallions together, without roaming the country fooling soft women. Egad ! Womenfolk are always imagining impossible things. One thing is sure, this lout belongs to the King's army." "The Duke of Mercoeur, perhaps," ventured the page. This theory seemed plausible. So much, at all events, was agreed on, the mysterious visitor was of the highest rank, and most likely was one of the leaders of the royal army. Then there was further discussion as to the reason of his disguise and as to the meaning of the references to a divorce. " Dame ! " cried Diana triumphantly, at the first lull in the hot debate, " I knew, the moment I clapped these two eyes upon him, that he was no common fellow, no, nor a bourgeois nei- ther. I know a gentleman when I see one. What a grand manner he has, to be sure ! And a pretty mess you would have made of it, Barbezoux, with your ignorance, driving away a prince or a duke, at the least, as if he were a beggarly vagrant ! " " God's blood ! A pretty mess you have made of it, Diana, letting in some rake-hell who would n't dare to come here openly. I '11 24 King or Knave warrant you, the master would have given him short shrift, if he had walked in upon his love- making. Let the scurviest villain on two legs flatter a woman smoothly, and he is a hero, egad ! and she thinks more of him than of an honest fellow who courts her fairly and opens his purse to her year in and year out," answered the head-cook, whose jealous wrath had lost nothing by being smothered for a time. This explosion produced an immediate divis- ion. The two women espoused the stranger's cause warmly. The romance of the affair in- evitably enlisted their sympathy in his behalf. On the other hand, Gaspard, the page, in- censed at the warm interest which a new-comer had immediately gained in the bosom of his adored, joined with Barbezoux in railing at woman's inconstancy and her susceptibility. But, bluster as the men might, they were the feebler party, and they knew it. Diana and Lisette, conscious of their own strength in the weakness of their admirers, awaited with zest the next step in the mysterious drama which had been unexpectedly revealed to them. They were willing, if opportunity offered, to hasten the next scene. CHAPTER THE SECOND How the King of Navarre receives certain tidings vastly encouraging to his hopes in more than one direction. THE sun hung low in the western sky when Gabrielle's suitor emerged from the chateau of Coeuvres and took the road by which he had come. " Not bad for a beginning," he said to him- self. " Plainly this is not a fortress to be taken by storm, but by siege, a long one, it may be. But win it I will, by Heaven ! What a beauty ! And such a merry laugh ! Roguish and sarcas- tic, too. Parbleu, she made me wince. And a devilish shrewd minx withal. How coolly she reasoned out the situation ! Ventre-saint-gris ! she knows her value and does not mean to throw herself away. ' A poor merchant-woman ' in- deed ! If all of her sex weighed their chances and their worth so carefully, we poor devils would pay dearer for our pleasures. If I could offer marriage ! But being already so happily mated " here he broke off with a laugh. But it rang hollow, as if, with all his cynical gayety, there was an under-current of bitterness. Arrived at the spot where he had thrown down his fagot, the pretended woodman paused 26 King or Knave for reflection. " Ventre-saint-gris ! " he ex- claimed. " I won't take the risk again of pass- ing through the enemy's lines by daylight. I might chance to encounter some .one of keener sight than Mayenne and Mercceur. After sun- set a belated wood-cutter, carrying home his fagot to boil the family pot, will not be noticed. No beauty lures me now. I will take mine ease for a while." Indeed the aspect of the forest invited to repose. It was a soft evening in the early part of May. A gentle breeze stirred the boughs covered with new foliage. Here the sun's slant rays shot through the light green like a flight of golden arrows; there impenetrable masses of verdure showed darker against the glowing sky. The disguised traveller plunged into the wood to a safe distance. Then he threw off his coarse blouse and exposed a close-fitting doublet of velvet, much faded and frayed. Laying the former at the foot of a tree, he stretched his limbs upon it and soon became absorbed in deep meditation, the reckless adventurer and the cynical gallant disappearing in the intent man of affairs. He drew forth a letter and care- fully read it. It ran thus : To His Majesty, the King of Navarre : SIRE, In obedience to your command, I am here. You wish to know the situation. It is this : Paris is on the eve of an explosion. The excitement is fright- ful. It recalls the scenes which foreran the St. 27 King or Knave Bartholomew's Day. Since the execution of the Queen of Scots the King is more than ever distrusted. The populace nourish a secret rage against him only less fierce than against your ally, whom they call " the she-wolf of England." The monks are everywhere, doing their devilish work. With Spanish gold in their pockets, they are incessantly stirring up sedition. They tell the people that the King secretly counselled the Queen of England to put her prisoner to death. They rage at the thought of a former Queen of France and a Guise dying on the scaffold. Since the Pope excommunicated Queen Elizabeth her death is the burden of a thousand prayers. The plot to that end having failed and having brought the Queen of Scots to the block, the Parisians talk con- fidently of the immense fleet which Philip is prepar- ing to conquer England, under the Pope's grant. If Philip succeed in his vast undertaking, he will surely next invade our country, at the same time from across the Channel and over the Pyrenees. And, alas ! he will find a host of traitors to help him. Then, Sire, the last hope of the liberties of France will be in our brave little army. Next to the Queen of England, the most hated personage is the King of France. All the world is against him. The common people charge him with treachery. The Sorbonne has declared it lawful to dethrone a prince who betrays his country. Even his mother has fallen away from him. She has not set foot in the Louvre, they say, within three years, and she corresponds constantly with Guise. Meanwhile he still alternates between piety and debauchery. Guise is more than ever the people's idol. To keep 28 King or Knave him from too close contact with the Parisians, the King will not let him come to the capital. But what does that avail? His spies are everywhere. He is in constant communication with the League leaders. When he is ready, he will do whatever pleases him. To sum up, the League holds Paris secure. In turn, it is ruled by the Sixteen. And these, with Guise, are the tools of Philip. The destinies of France are directed from Madrid. May 10 An astonishing thing ! Guise is in Paris. In spite of the King's express prohibition, he has dared to come. Now we shall see who is the real master. At the advent of the duke, the rabble went wild. I close this, Sire, in haste, as an opportunity offers for sending it by a safe hand. Your faithful servitor, THEODORE AGRIPPA D'AUBIGNE. Henry of Navarre remained a long time buried in deep thought. Meanwhile the sun had set, and the shadows of evening were gathering. Then he rose, resumed his woodman's garb and his fagot, and continued his journey. Under the cover of the darkness he made his way, unques- tioned, through the enemy's lines, and, some miles beyond, came to an obscure tavern where a single attendant awaited him. Here he threw off his disguise, mounted his horse, and rode away. By midnight he reached his quarters at Saint Jean d'Angely. When he awoke the next morning, he was amazed to find D'Aubign6 standing by his bed- 29 King or Knave side. The latter had ridden post from Paris with startling intelligence. Shortly after the entrance of Guise, the city had burst into furious riots, the streets had been barricaded, the royal troops surrounded and forced to surrender, and the King virtually besieged in the Louvre. Then Henry had taken a decisive step; he had fled the city, leaving it in the hands of the League. Now it must be war to the knife between him and Guise. France now had three forces in arms: the Royalists, the Leaguers, and the Huguenots (a change greatly to the advantage of the latter). The first effect of this new situa- tion was the withdrawal of Mayenne from Henry of Navarre's front. The League could not waste men in fighting heresy, when it needed them to overcome the King. D'Aubignd brought another piece of news, closely affecting his master's interest, of which we shall hear more hereafter. CHAPTER THE THIRD How Jean Fourcade, on his way to the sea, comes to the Mermaid and meets one William Shakespeare, who saves him from burning. JEAN FOURCADE lay asleep in his lodgings in London. He had been sent by his master, ostensibly to convey despatches to Queen Eliza- beth, really to ascertain the state of England's preparation against the Armada and, still more, to gain, if possible, surcease of his sorrow. He had taken with him a letter of introduc- tion to Sir Walter Raleigh, who once served under Coligny and was a great favorite with the Huguenot chiefs. Raleigh had received Four- cade most kindly and presented him to a number of young Englishmen. One of these was Sheldon Courtney, a kinsman of Sir Francis Drake. Between these two there had grown a warm friendship, and Courtney had invited Fourcade to go with him to visit his famous cousin on shipboard and inspect the English fleet. Jean was aroused by a violent knocking at his door. He hastened to open it. Courtney's servant, in his master's name, bade him come to him with all speed, for he was on the point of starting for the fleet. Tidings had just now been King or Knave flashed from the Lizard that the Armada was in sight ! What an opportunity ! In a few minutes he had hurried on his clothes and thrust a few neces- saries into his saddle-bags. Then he started with all speed for his friend's lodgings. All London was astir. Private houses were lighted, and in many persons might be seen hurrying to and fro. Tavern-doors stood wide open, the public rooms ablaze with candles and filled with men eagerly debating the situation. The streets were alive with a curious, anxious throng. Mounted men rode in hot haste. Bon- fires blazed in the market-places. Church-bells clanged heavily on the night air. Fourcade encountered a group of townsfolk noisily discussing the situation. In skirting its edge, he stumbled over a dog slinking under the men's feet. " Parbleu ! " he ejaculated, as he barely saved himself from plunging into the mud of the street. In an instant he was roughly seized by some of those nearest him. " Ha, a foreign Papist ! " cried one. " A spy ! " shouted another, with a frightful oath. He scarcely realized what had occurred, when he found himself surrounded by an infuriated rabble, momentarily growing, as the cry, " A Jesuit priest ! " attracted passers-by. Jean understood enough of their clamor to apprehend that he was supposed to be an emis- 32 King or Knave sary of Spain. To protest his innocence only served to make matters worse. Before such judges his scant English and his foreign accent were damning proofs. " Egad ! let 's serve the accursed spy as we served Cuthbert Mayne ! " cried one. " To the nearest bonfire with him ! " shouted another. The horrible suggestion was received with glee, and Fourcade found himself at once dragged along in the midst of a mob intent on putting it into immediate execution. They chanced to pass the open door of a tavern whence streamed a broad path of light, illuminating a sign overhead on which was daubed the figure of a mermaid. A knot of men, drawn from within by the clamor in the street, came crowding the doorway and the steps. Fourcade recognized the place. He had been there with Courtney. As he eagerly scanned the faces of the group about the entrance, he distinguished with joy the features of an acquaint- ance, Christopher Marlowe by name. The rec- ognition was mutual. " Hold, good people, I pray you ! " cried Mar- lowe. " I know this gentleman, and there is surely some mistake. With what is he charged ? " The crowd answered with jeers and oaths, " A Papist ! " "A foreign spy ! " "A damned Jesuit priest ! " " What do you mean to do with him, good fellows?" thickly interposed a man somewhat 3 33 King or Knave older than Marlowe, with the flushed face and rolling eye of deep drink. " Egad ! we are going to roast him without judge or jury. We 've had enough of these damned Spanish plots," cried a voice in the crowd. " By God ! it will be fine sport. Let 's go and see this new kind of barbe-a-queue," rolled out the tipsy man. " Shame on you, Rob Greene ! " remonstrated Marlowe, earnestly and low. " Would you en- courage these miserable creatures to murder? " The mob was on the point of moving on. " Nay, not so fast, good friends," he cried. " I pray you, hear me a moment. I can vouch for this gentleman that he is neither spy, nor Jesuit, but a sound Protestant and a friend of England. Only give him a chance to be heard." Hereupon Fourcade attempted an explana- tion, saying that he was on his way to Sir Francis Drake. But his foreign accent kindled again the wrath of the rabble, and his voice was drowned in a fresh outcry. " Away with him to the bonfire ! " was the clamor, and the mob was setting itself again in motion, when a young man who had not hitherto spoken interposed. " Nay, good citizens, be not over-hasty, I pray you," he pleaded. " You know me " " Aye, that we do ! " " Our Will ! " " Speak on, Will ! " were cries that came from the mob. 34 King or Knave "Fair play is English play, is it not?" (Cries of " Aye, aye ! " " That is so ! ") " Then give this man fair play, I say. You would not do a man to death without just cause, would you ? Here is one that is willing to vouch for him that he is no spy, nor enemy to England. Methought I heard him name Sir Francis Drake. Perchance he has about him some writing that will assure you of his peaceful intent." At the first sound of the speaker's voice, the man addressed as Rob Greene had shown every sign of drunken fury. While the other spoke, he glared at him savagely. Now he burst upon him with rage, " Who art thou, Shakestick, Shixpur, Shak- escene, or by whatever latest name thou callest thyself, thou upstart crow, beautified with better birds' feathers ; thou thief of other men's wits ; thou infamous bawdy-house braggart " Hot blood flushed the young man's face ; but he spoke not a word and only looked at the tipsy bully with fine scorn. "Nay, Rob Greene," remonstrated Marlowe, " 't is an unmanly trait in thee that thou dost ever assail the boy. I tell thee," he added, low- ering his voice, " he hath such stuff in him that when he hath gained more years, Fame shall sound his trump in all the wide world's ear, when none shall name thee, save as a tavern- idler and bawdy-house brawler." " Pooh, a mere purloiner and common thief," blustered the other. Then he added sulkily, 35 King or Knave " Thou mayest keep thy prophecy for thyself, Kit Marlowe. It fits thee best." Meanwhile Fourcade had not failed to profit by this diversion to search his pockets for some bit of writing that might prove his friendly affilia- tions. Happily, he found a letter of his master, signed simply, " Navarre." This he offered. The feeling of the mob toward him had un- dergone a complete revulsion. Greene's attack on their favorite, young Will, had evoked fresh enthusiasm in favor of the latter; and this sentiment included the stranger whose cause he had espoused. This change did not escape the quick eye of Jean's champion, and he hastened to take ad- vantage of it. "Ah ha! Said I not to you," he cried triumphantly, "that this is no enemy? Here is a writing," holding the letter aloft and striking the signature with his forefinger, " subscribed by our Queen's good friend and ally, the King of Navarre, who, ye know, last autumn put the papists to a damnable rout." Thereupon there was tremendous applause, and Fourcade suddenly found himself as much an object of admiration as before of hostility. He took leave of his protectors with hearty thanks, and went on his way, an enthusiastic rabble tagging at his heels and cheering him to his friend's very door. Fourcade and Courtney started immediately for Plymouth. 36 King or Knave As they rode through the night, everywhere drums were beating and men mustering in the mar- ket-places. The hill-tops blazed with bonfires. From the Lizard to Flamborough Head the land was alight with beacons summoning the men of England to march against the foe. And right valiantly they responded. Already the roads were almost choked with bands of militia and trains of wagons bearing provisions, all moving to the sea-board. All the next day they continued their journey through similar scenes. As evening drew on, they met messengers, one after another, riding post-haste to London, with despatches from the Admiral, Lord Howard. The fleet had already sailed from Plymouth. This was in itself a master-stroke. When the hostile armament hove in sight, the English vessels were in the harbor, shut in by a southerly wind. The situ- ation was perilous. Had the Spanish admiral possessed the spirit of Drake, he would have swept in and fought the fleet on his own terms. But Medina Sidonia was not Drake. He pleaded with his fleet-captains that his master had for- bidden him to enter a single harbor before effecting the junction with the army from Flan- ders. So he missed the opportunity of destroy- ing his nimble adversaries in the port in which they were " bottled up." While he sailed com- placently on his way, the great sea-captains and the stout mariners of England were toiling to gain all that they needed, plenty of sea-room. 37 King or Knave When the first dawn came after the signals had announced the Armada, strong arms, tugging at the oars, had warped a large part of the fleet out of its perilous plight. Sixty sail had gained an offing and were standing out into the Channel. This circumstance necessitated a change of our young men's plan. They decided to strike the coast at a nearer point. After riding all the night, stopping only for hasty refreshment, they reached Torbay on the second morning at sunrise and learned with joy that the fleet was off-shore. In a tavern filled with soldiers and sailors eating and carousing they took a hurried meal. An old salt told a story of Drake at which all laughed hugely. " Egad, 'ee was a-playin' bowls on the Hoe with my Lord Admiral and 'Awkins and the rest of um, when Captain Fleming comes racin' into port and runs to the tavern and busts in and bawls, ' They're a-comin', my Lord. I 've seed um with my own eyes. Moon-shaped and seven mile wide from wing to wing, if they're a foot.' Then when they wus all flustered and the captains wus a-puttin' on their coats and a-hurryin' away, Drake 'ee goes on coolly a-aimin' of his bowl. "Then the Lord Admiral 'ee says, ' Sir Vice- Admiral, what is your counsel?' And Drake 'ee says, ' My counsel, my Lord, is that we finish this game. There 's time enough and to spare. We'll take care of them all in good season. 38 King or Knave No hurry. So 'ere goes.' With that, egad, 'ee lets fly his bowl and makes a ten-strike." The fact no doubt was, that Drake already had his campaign well in mind. His plan was to let the Spaniard go by, then harass his rear. The little fishing hamlet was crowded with bustling people. Here were light craft putting to sea, filled with volunteers for the fleet. There were fishing-vessels, laden deep with stores for the ships, freely contributed by merchants and men of means. A passion of national defence had seized the people, high and low, and all England was pouring out her wealth without stint. Courtney quickly made a bargain with the master of a fishing-sloop which already had for passengers a number of volunteers, to convey himself and Fourcade on board the Revenge, Sir Francis Drake's ship. The day was bright and beautiful. The blue water was dotted with the white sails of craft of every description, all bound seaward. Soon they came in sight of the English fleet. The vessels lay hove to, quite close together, but covering a considerable space. The trim craft lay like sea-birds just lighted, riding easily on the swell, each with a little canvas set. There were several Queen's ships, compared with the rest, vast in bulk, with their long tiers of guns. In the midst of them floated the Lord Admiral's broad pennant. 39 King or Knave But the most were small, swift vessels. Priva- teers such as these had made the English flag a terror to Corunna and Cadiz and the coast towns of the Spanish Main. Not a few, besides the national ensign, showed some coat of arms. Private owners had brought them to their coun- try's aid. Here and there one hung out a cross at the taffrail, showing its master a Catholic, come with his own ship to fight his country's battle against the Most Catholic King. The shore boats plied among the vessels, de- livering their freight and passengers; and our two friends had a good chance of inspecting the fleet as they sailed from ship to ship. One volunteer was bound for the Triumph, the largest of the English ships, whose comman- der was the renowned explorer of the frozen seas, Martin Frobisher. Another wished to be put aboard the Victory. As they came under the high poop, a dark, sun-tanned visage looked down upon them. "That is he. That is Hawkins himself," said one of the young men, with evident awe. Fourcade was struck with the strange device of the escutcheon hanging over the taffrail. It was a Moor bound with cords. He asked its meaning, and was told that it indicated this great commander's triumphs in capturing Africans and selling them to the West India plantations. Everywhere were life and animation and good-humor. The decks were alive and full of 40 King or Knave bustle. There were voices bawling cheerily from ship to ship. Now and again the shrill piping of the boatswain's whistle was followed by a hoarse command. Then the rigging blackened with a swarm of figures climbing the shrouds and swinging themselves like monkeys from yard to yard. Fourcade's imagination was stirred. Around him were the seamen who had carried the flag of England over the globe and bearded the world's conquerors in their strongholds. Within a single glance were famous navigators, bold dis- coverers, reckless sea-rovers, red-handed with Spanish blood, all the men who had brought wealth and glory to England and laid the foun- dation of her empire of the seas. Soon they were alongside of Sir Francis Drake's ship. The Revenge, like a swan sur- rounded by her cygnets, rode amid a flotilla of smaller craft, the privateer contingent, of which the great sea-rover was commander. When the visitors climbed aboard, they espied a burly figure with broad, sun-burned visage, massive forehead, and full ruddy beard modishly trimmed to a peak. The hero of a hundred sea- fights, whose name alone was worth a score of ships, so redoubtable did the Spaniards hold him, was handsomely dressed in black cut-velvet, with a high starched ruff coming up to his very ears. On his breast hung a splendid jewelled medallion containing a miniature of his royal mistress, given him by herself in recognition of his 41 King or Knave prowess in burning a Spanish fleet in the very harbor of Cadiz. The great viking, now Vice-Admiral of her Majesty's fleet, kept high state on shipboard. What cared he that some of his own countrymen called him " the greatest thief of the unknown world," and that Philip demanded his head? When he sailed into Plymouth harbor, after three years' absence without a word of news from England, having burst into the Pacific, plundered the coasts of Chili and Peru, rounded Good Hope and put the first English girdle around the globe; when he sent Spanish gold and silver to London by horse-loads, besides all that he kept ; when he encountered first the simulated frowns, then the open favor of his sov- ereign, who knighted him on the deck of his ship, the " Golden Hind," and was entertained by him with princely profusion, he could smile at hard names. " Ha ! " cried the modern viking, so soon as he caught sight of the new-comers, " Sheldon, my boy, you are come in the very nick of time. A half-hour more at the furthest, and you were too late. We momentarily wait the signal to make sail." Then, before his kinsman had time to present his friend, he extended a brawny hand to Fourcade and gave him a hearty grip. " A friend of mine, Sir Francis," said Court- ney, uncovering, " and a follower of the King of Navarre." " Ah ! then let me welcome you doubly," cried 42 King or Knave the great sea-dog, wringing Fourcade's hand anew. " Egad, "t is a thousand pities that such a born free companion of the sea as your master should be made by hard fortune into a landsman. If my pious father could have had his way with me, where should I be now? Zounds ! moping in a country curacy and yawning over my prayer-book. But I found out that the Al- mighty had cut out other work for me to do. And, egad ! the Spaniard knows it, too." 43 CHAPTER THE FOURTH How Jean Fourcade, sailing with Drake to fight the Invincible Armada, witnesses his famous method of "Singeing the Spanish King's beard." IT was Fourcade's first experience of a war- ship, and he admired its order and method and its long rows of cannon. Suddenly the report of a gun boomed over the water, and a light cloud drifted away from the Admiral's deck. As a signal fluttered from his foremast, a cheer began on one vessel. It was quickly taken up on another and another, until all the nine thou- sand seamen of the fleet cried together in one vast shout. In a twinkling the yards swarmed with sailors loosing the canvas. The shore boats were cast off and began to clear themselves of the fleet. Every eye was turned to the Lord Admiral for the final signal. At the moment that a puff of smoke issued from her side, as if by magic, the whole hundred vessels clothed themselves with canvas and began to forge ahead without jostling or confusion. Soon the whole flock of tall sea- birds was skimming the water in graceful flight up the Channel. Now Fourcade caught his first glimpse of the Armada. The sun reflected from its sails 44 King or Knave showed it like a vast white cloud, low and long extended on the horizon. A very little time proved how much the light English vessels out- sailed the Spanish, for the hulls of the latter began to rise out of the water and reveal their bulk. What an array it was ! Philip's empire had been drained to build and equip it. Three years and millions of treasure had scarcely suf- ficed for its preparation. The Indies and the New World had yielded up for it their blood- stained weath. Portugal had been bled to the verge of death to furnish her reluctant quota. Even Venice and Naples and Genoa were there, as unwilling allies. All the provinces of Spain were represented, ranged under the banner of haughty Castile. Eight thousand sailors manned it, and it bore twenty thousand veteran soldiers. The programme was to unite these with the Duke of Parma's thirty thousand, trained in the wars of the Low Countries and now awaiting trans- port on the Dutch coast. Then surely England's doom was sealed. There were dukes and a legion of Spain's lesser chivalry, with hundreds of bold adven- turers, spldiers and sailors of fortune like those who had followed Cortez and Pizarro. To care for England's spiritual interests, there was a band of monks, with holy inquisitors and good store of sacred instruments of torture. Now the Captain-General, the Golden Duke, Medina Sidonia, stood on the deck of his huge 45 King or Knave galleon, the Saint Martin, surrounded by brilliant nobles. The great array, in the form of a cres- cent, seven miles wide, swept slowly up the Channel, with the pomp of martial music and of gaudy standards. As the English vessels drew near, the Spanish admiral proclaimed a holy war by unfurling his sacred banner. As its heavy folds floated out, while every gun of every ship roared a salute, they displayed on one side the Crucified Saviour, on the other the Holy Mother. Then thousands of knees were bent and thousands of hearts were uplifted in prayer for victory over the enemies of the Church. The contrast was sharp. Not only two na- tions, but two ages confronted each other. Spain stood for the Middle Age, both in spirit and in her armament. She maintained the traditions of the Mediterranean. Her naval tactics were those of the great Italian admirals, like Andrea Doria, who marshalled their vessels like squad- rons of cavalry, according to military rules of formation, and charged with them, locking with the enemy and fighting hand to hand. It was simply land warfare transferred to the sea. The introduction of cannon had, of course, modified the scheme ; but the general idea was the same. The ruling type was still that of the Greek and Roman war-galley, driven by hundreds of rowers, seeking first of all to ram the enemy with her keen metal beak, and, failing that, to grapple, when the soldiers fought as on land. 46 King or Knave Therefore the pride of the Armada were four huge Neapolitan galleasses. These illustrated an attempt to adapt the ancient war-galley to modern conditions. They carried considerable canvas on three masts, as well as fifty oars, each pulled by five men, and had cannon in broadside, besides great square castles fore and aft, with guns in tiers, like the sailing ships of the day. One of these hybrid monsters bore a total company of not less than a thousand, oars- men (slaves), sailors, and marines. Vessels of this type had done splendid service at Lepanto, where they broke up the Turkish centre and decided the day for Don John and Christendom. The four Neapolitans were, par excellence, the battle-ships of the Armada, and were expected to do terrible execution upon the English vessels, as unquestionably they would have done, had they been allowed to carry out their tactics of coming to close quarters, ramming, and grappling. The English stood for the modern time, not in spirit only but in method. They had dis- carded the galley type, and had few vessels which relied at all on oars. They had evolved swift sailing-craft, and, not looking primarily to grappling and close fighting, they paid more attention to artillery. They had better guns, more of them, more and better sailors, and vastly better gunners. They had, also, a larger proportion of vessels built expressly for the purposes of war and having every equipment 47 King or Knave known to naval science. Besides their heavy guns in battery, they carried light pieces for quick firing in cage-works and in their tops. And these swift sailing-vessels were handled by the most experienced seamen whom all England had produced, veterans of the ocean. Outside of the Neapolitan and Portuguese squadrons, the larger part of Medina Sidonia's fleet was made up of merchant-ships fitted with castles for fighting, but ill adapted to naval use, clumsy sailers, unweatherly, and, worst of all, in many cases commanded not by seamen, but by generals, colonels of cavalry, and the like. Medina Sidonia himself was no sailor, but a high grandee who had reluctantly taken this weighty charge. Even the crews were largely made up of raw peasants, hastily impressed for this special enterprise. The ships were also crowded with an army of twenty thousand soldiers. In every particular, except that they had heavier tonnage and more soldiers, the Span- iards were outclassed. But their bigger ships only furnished larger targets for the enemy; and their soldiery, except the rare occasions when they could use their arquebuses, were only a mob of helpless landsmen, destined to be mown down by the enemy's guns. It was the old time against the new. Spain had an army at sea on antiquated vessels. England had a modern scientific navy, skilfully handled. Great was the surprise of the Spaniards when they saw the English fleet looming up on their 48 King or Knave weather side. That they had got out of Ply- mouth, in the teeth of the wind, and worked up on their weather quarter, seemed little short of a miracle of seamanship. Sidonia hoped for an immediate encounter, and ran up the royal standard at the fore, the signal for a general engagement. Howard promptly signalled his fleet to hold off. But no sooner did Sidonia resume his course, than the advanced English ships fell furiously upon the enemy's rear, pouring in a hot fire. The most of the Dons were seized with a panic, and ran away before the wind. But brave old Recalde, Admiral of the rear-guard, with one other ship, came up into the wind and squared off for a fight. He got it to his heart's content. Drake, Hawkins, Frobisher, and several others lay pounding him at musket-range. Meanwhile, Sidonia had gone about, and, having rallied the fugitives, was coming to stand by him. But it was a long time before they could work to windward sufficiently. For two mortal hours the old Don took his punishment like a man. Then, help having come to him, Howard sig- nalled his ships to draw off, leaving Recalde, completely disabled, among his friends. This first encounter was a specimen of the English tactics through the entire week. Their windward position, for which they always ma- noeuvred successfully, gave them the choice of fighting or not. The enemy, either by ill-luck or mismanagement, always to leeward, could 4 49 King or Knave never force an engagement, but must always accept it on their nimble adversaries' terms. Near sunset, the great castle on the stern of Admiral Oquendo's flag-ship, the San Salvador, suddenly rose in the air, amid a dense cloud of smoke and with a deafening report. The huge galleon lay a dismantled hulk, while the sea was strewn with wreckage, to which men were clinging. Immediately Drake headed the Revenge, under full sail, for the unfortunate Spaniard. Other English ships bore down, all eager to swoop on the victim of disaster. But they were disappointed. So many of her comrades hastened to cover the disabled galleon that the assailants must content themselves with cannon- ading the rescuers. The San Salvador bore the paymaster-general of the whole fleet, and a vast sum of money was lost. While the Revenge was still bowling along towards the centre of interest, a lone swimmer was seen battling with the waves. A rope was thrown to him, and he was hauled aboard, sput- tering with rage and swearing in Dutch. He was the Flemish master-gunner of the flag-ship just now destroyed. His Spanish captain had incensed him by a sharp reprimand for reckless and wasteful firing, and he had revenged himself by lighting a train to the powder-magazine. Then he had thrown himself into the sea. This treachery led to yet other disasters. In crowding to the rescue several collisions oc- 50 King or Knave curred. The heaviest sufferer was Admiral Pedro de Valdez, commander of the Andalusian squadron. His foremast fell, entangling the mainmast in its wreck. A high sea was running. Night was drawing near, and he lay helpless on the water. Still the brave Don had no thought of sur- render. With a little patch of canvas, barely enough to keep his ship steady, he used his guns incessantly, beating off the English and hoping for relief. But the Captain-general was compelled to draw away his scattered ships and leave him to his fate, like a wounded stag sur- rounded by hungry wolves. Until darkness hid the disabled ship, the Triumph and the Victory continued their fire, to which he steadily replied. So ended the first day's fighting. Two flag- ships of the enemy's squadrons disabled and other vessels battered, with a large number of men killed, while not an English ship had suf- fered, and their losses had been very light, pre- sented a situation full of cheer for the defence. That night occurred an incident quite charac- teristic of Drake. To him had been assigned the honorable duty of leading the fleet through the night. Following his great poop-lantern, the captains held their course confidently and steadily. All went well until the dead of night. Then, suddenly, the Revenge's light went out. Confusion fell upon the fleet. What had be- fallen Drake? Where was he? What should they do? Some captains hove to and waited King or Knave for daylight. Some shortened sail. There were no orders, and each must use his judgment. Howard, with the White Bear, continued the chase. The fleet became widely scattered. About the same time Fourcade and his friend were enjoying the sleep of overpowering fatigue, when they were aroused by tramping on deck. " Hist ! " said Courtney, " what is that sound? There is some movement going on overhead. Let us see what is afoot." They were quickly on deck. They found Drake in person directing the working of the ship. Without a cry the seamen were shifting the sails and hauling home the sheets. The Revenge noiselessly slipped away from her late position and left the course in which she had been leading. What was she seeking? Why this profound secrecy? Now, having given a wide berth to her con- sorts, she steered for the middle of the Channel, forging slowly ahead. There was not a sound but the swashing of the swell against her sides and the occasional creaking of a block. The young men stood near the famous sea-rover. From the bow of his ship he peered intently into the gloom. " There he lies ! " he cried presently, and immediately sent an order to the helmsman to change the course towards an object which the two landsmen now descried. They surmised that the disabled galleon was his quarry. All uncertainty was removed by Drake's muttering 5 2 King or Knave aloud, "Egad, 'tis bad enough to have missed that treasure that lies at the bottom of the Channel. But this Spaniard, by God ! we shall have in the morning, before we eat our break- fast." Then he directed the manoeuvring of the ship into the position which he desired. There she dropped anchor quietly and lay awaiting the morning. It was scarcely dawn, when all hands were astir on the Revenge. Silently the gun-crews took their places ready for action. When the sun burst through the mist and the fog rolled away, the astounded Spaniard saw an English ship lying across his bow, in a position to rake him from stem to stern at close range, while he could not use a single gun. But not a shot was fired. Instead, a boat left the stranger's side with a white flag at the bow. Drake was shouting to the officer in the stern- sheets his final instructions, " Hark 'ee, Ramsdell, no bullying, ye under- stand ! This fellow has made a brave fight, and, egad, he shall have good treatment. Say to him, on the honor of Francis Drake, if he will surrender, he shall have treatment worthy of a gallant gentleman and opportunity of ransom. But if he is obstinate, tell him my matches are burning, and I '11 rake him before he can patter an Ave." The Don at first demurred, then, when he found that he could make no terms, professed 53 King or Knave himself proud to surrender to the illustrious Sir Francis Drake. It was a splendid capture. The admiral of the Andalusian squadron, with some forty officers and gentlemen, would pay no mean ransom, not to mention the ship, with her treasure and her guns and equipage. A boat brought Valdez aboard the Revenge. Drake hastened to meet and greet him with every mark of courtesy. " Welcome, Senor ; a brave gentleman in misfortune will never regret falling into the hands of Francis Drake." He made good his word. Throughout the week the prisoner lived on board the Revenge as an honored guest and witnessed the fighting from her decks. In the mean time dawn had brought no relief to the anxiety of the fleet. Drake was nowhere in sight. The captains knew not what to do. The Admiral had sailed ahead. At last a pin- nace brought word that Drake had left his post and doubled back behind the fleet, to stay by the disabled Spaniard, and had captured him in the morning. The fleet-officers were furious. They swore that it was the act of an incorrigible pirate to delay the pursuit, at a critical time, and confuse the fleet, in order that he might seize a prize which of right belonged to other men. Frobisher and Hawkins were especially incensed. They had shot the Spanish ship almost to pieces, and 54 King or Knave now, forsooth, a free-booter had stolen the splen- did prize. "The damned pirate and thief! " blurted out the explorer of the frozen seas, " he will cozen us, if he can, out of our fifteen thousand ducats of ransom. But, by God ! I will make him spill the last drop of blood in his carcass ere he shall have it." The hard face of Hawkins turned livid, and he stormed about his deck like a madman. Had a whole cargo of blackamoors beneath the hatches been found dead, he would scarcely have thought himself more hardly used by Providence than now by his brother rover and kinsman. But, rage as they might, not a groat of the huge ransom did they get. Drake, when he appeared, had a plausible story to tell. In the night he had seen a group of ships silently crossing his bows. Taking them for Spaniards trying to steal to windward, he had thought it best not to turn the whole fleet from its course : therefore he had put out his light and given them chase. He had followed them all night. When morning came, he found them to be German merchantmen. On his way to rejoin the fleet, he had chanced upon the dis- abled Spaniard and captured him. His officers and crew were willing to swear to the truth of the story, and nobody could disprove it. Day after day for a week the fight moved slowly up the Channel. Almost every point along the English coast witnessed some encoun- 55 King or Knave ter. All the while the cliffs bristled with Eng- land's stout yeomen, pike or arquebuse in hand, ready to resist a landing, if any were attempted ; while thousands of women and old men lined the shores, watching with eager interest and earnest prayers the great cloud of drifting smoke, through which at times ships, friend and foe in- distinguishable, could be seen gliding like phan- toms. It was a solemn time for England, and she was equal to the crisis. At every lull boat-loads of fresh provisions and crowds of volunteers, so that he was compelled to turn away hundreds, poured out of every port to join Howard. Off Portland Bill there was a furious fight, of which Frobisher was the hero. With four ships he had become isolated, and was attacked by the four great galleasses and others. The English fleet was practically cut in two. An abler commander than Sidonia would have known how to destroy one wing. But when he drew off, the San Martin's rigging was cut to pieces, and water was pouring in through shot- holes. Both sides claimed the victory, but clearly neither wished to continue the fight. The Isle of Wight witnessed another fierce encounter. It ended in a great strategical suc- cess for the English, in that they drove the enemy off and hindered him from securing a base of operations on the Isle of Wight. But the situation was growing critical. In spite of its losses, the Armada was immensely formidable. It was nearing the point of pro- 56 King or Knave posed junction with the Duke of Parma. Should it be effected, and that veteran force be com- bined with the thousands of soldiers on the fleet, or even if the Spanish vessels could only pro- tect Parma's crossing, those trained warriors, under their great leader, would find an easy task in over-running England, defended only by raw levies led by no abler general than Eliza- beth's favorite, Leicester. Something must be done, and quickly. The fleet-captains agreed that skirmishing must give place to a general engagement. Unquestionably there was deep discourage- ment, too, on the Armada. The Spaniards had had a fearful experience of the quickness and accuracy of the English fire and of their own inability, on account of the nimble tactics of their adversaries, to come to close quarters and board. At last the Armada had reached its des- tination, Calais roads, where his master had ordered Medina Sidonia to await the appear- ance of Parma. But, to his great perplexity, the general of the army made no sign. In vain the Captain-general scanned the horizon for some indication that the land forces were at hand. He did not know that the brave Dutch, slighted by Elizabeth though they had been, had come to England's help in her hour of peril, and were at that moment patrolling with their fleet the coast from which Parma should have embarked, and shutting him in. 57 King or Knave Sidonia's position was perilous in the extreme. He lay in the most dangerous part of the Chan- nel, with no news of Parma, with no port to go into, and with wild weather brewing. Besides, his ammunition was running low. While he was sending messengers, asking for round shot and for small, swift vessels to match the Eng- lish, and above all urging Parma to hasten to him, Seymour joined Howard with the Channel fleet, thirty-six sail. This accession brought the Eng- lish vessels up to a greater number than the Spanish. It was at this point that Philip's great scheme broke down. With all his lavish expenditure and minute care for details, he had not provided duly for the junction of Parma and Sidonia. That most essential point, the link between the two lines of operations, had been left to hazard. It was a fatal omission. To it must be attributed the disastrous fate of the Armada. Sidonia had carried out his orders faithfully. He had beaten off the English fleet and taken his vessels and soldiers to the prescribed point. Man could not do more. Now he was terribly anxious, and with good reason. The governor of Calais had sent him a friendly warning that the position in which he lay was full of peril for his ships, if a storm should come on. There was still no sign of Parma ; and an ominous stir among the English vessels, lying scarcely more than a gun-shot away, indicated some projected movement. He 58 King or Knave especially dreaded fire-ships; and the wind, blowing straight from the English, gave a splendid opportunity for the use of them. Thus Sunday passed, the two fleets watching each other : the Spanish commander anxiously expecting some sign from the coast; the Eng- lish captains planning some device for dislodg- ing the enemy. Night had come on. The sky was momen- tarily growing angry and threatening. Our two volunteers were on deck, looking with some- thing of apprehension to the quarter in which lay the hostile array. They knew that the next few hours would settle the fate of England, of Europe. Around them, shadowy in the night, lay the English ships, with here and there a lantern hanging from a mast-head, all in pro- found stillness. Near them Drake was pacing his deck, stopping now and again to peer into the gloom. There was a general feeling that the hour was big with fate. A fresh breeze was blowing from the English shore. Suddenly a bright light showed, not far from the Revenge. It spread and reached up- ward with amazing rapidity. " A ship afire ! " exclaimed the young men. Drake, who had been busy all the day with some mysterious preparations, clapped his hands with glee. Another point of light, rapidly growing, like the other, appeared, then another and another, until, within a few minutes, the sky was red with 59 King or Knave the flames of six fire-ships driving swiftly towards the enemy. It was a wild sight. The flames leaped up the rigging and shot out tongues of fire upon the yards. They climbed the masts and painted the dark cloud-mass in the background a glow- ing red. From Dover Cliffs to the Belgian coast, a vast arch of brightness spanned the sky. Between the burning vessels and the observers the sea glowed like the mouth of a furnace. The gloom of the night had been changed to brilliance. By the glare men on the English ships read exultation in one another's faces. The bulwarks and shrouds swarmed with sailors. On a vessel a cheer began. It was taken up in- stantly on all, and thousands of voices shouted themselves hoarse. The same weird light showed wild terror and confusion on the Spanish side. The ships were cutting their cables and making frantic efforts to escape. Falling afoul of one another, some became hopelessly entangled and only got away with damaged rigging. Others, more fortunate, escaped unharmed and under all sail sped away from the perilous scene. In the frenzy of fear no one thought of anything but to save himself and his own ship. Panic had seized the Dons. In a short time, where the Armada had ridden at anchor drifted only the burning hulks. By morning most of the ships had gone far to leeward and were off Gravelines. In-shore were two great galleons, stranded on the treach- 60 King or Knave erous shoals, their fate sealed. Terror had more effectually disorganized the world's wonder than a week's fighting. Now was England's opportunity. The fight- ing in the Channel had been only preliminary. Now let the English strike for their homes and for eternal renown ! Sunrise saw them swoop- ing down like a flight of eagles upon their disordered quarry. Scattered along a perilous coast, abounding in shoals, toward which the wind was steadily driving them, the Spaniards for the greater part had lost heart and thought no more of anything but to escape with their lives. But not all showed the white feather. Howard foolishly turned aside from the attack, to follow a great galleasse which he saw disabled, close in shore, trying to work into Calais. His squadron followed him. The Don, finding him- self hard pushed, ran his ship aground on a sand-bank, under the guns of Calais castle, and fought her like a Turk. Several English vessels and a whole fleet of small boats hammered him with cannon and pelted him with musketry. But it was only when the gallant Mongada fell, with a bullet between the eyes, that his ship was taken. The English sailors swarmed over her sides and high castles, looting, intoxicated with success. Next appeared on the scene French officers from the castle, claiming the ship as a prize taken in French waters. The sailors jeered 61 King or Knave at them and plundered them also. Then the guns of the castle, held by Leaguers, opened on the captors and drove them off. But as they scurried over the sides, they carried away with them twenty-two thousand golden scudi. In the mean time Drake had splendidly re- trieved Howard's error by charging straight into the midst of the Spaniards trying to get them- selves together in some kind of order. Sidonia, no seaman, but a brave man, bore himself splendidly. Throwing himself in front of his vessels trying to gain an offing, he took the whole English fire. The Revenge, the Tri- umph, the Victory, and some smaller vessels belabored him, while the Rainbow, the Ante- lope, and the Vanguard bore down upon one wing. The fighting was of the most furious, and at musket range. The sea-rovers were in their element. With their light vessels they manoeuvred among their bulky adversaries, poured deadly volleys into their tall sides, riddled them, splintered their masts and yards, and tore their sails to shreds. The Spanish officers fought their shattered ships heroically. The carnage among them was fearful. Men who had been at Lepanto said it was child's play to Gravelines. The fate of Europe hung on this encounter, and both sides fought with a sense of its import. The English ships, bent on finishing the enemy, rushed in among their scattered ships like a pack of wolves and worried and tore 62 King or Knave them right and left. The roar of cannon was incessant. A great curtain of smoke shrouded the sea. Out of this the lighter vessels occa- sionally emerged to reload, for they fought with their sails set. Then, plunging in again, they chose a victim and poured a broadside into him, then circled around and gave him the other. The larger ships loosed their topsails and fought stationary, with their main and foreyards close down on deck, to prevent being boarded. The constant endeavor of the Armada was to get away from the shoals into the North Sea. But their enemy insisted on pushing them on the deadly lee-shore. The Spaniards' predica- ment was a dire one, between the devil, the hungry, treacherous Zeeland banks, and the deep sea, where the Bear, the Lion, and their like ravened. Of all the brave Spaniards, Don Francisco de Toledo, in the San Felipe, and Don Diego Pimentel, in the San Mateo, bore away the palm. Each was cut off and surrounded, but would not hear of surrender. Toledo ran his sword through an officer who was about to cut the hal- yards of the flag. With upper works all shot away, helm shattered, spars about his ears, guns dismantled, and water pouring in through shot- holes, Pimentel continued to fight with musketry. Feeling his ship sinking, he tried to board the nearest enemy, but could not approach any. An English officer climbed the rigging, clear of the smoke, and shouted, "Brave fellows, sur- 63 King or Knave render ! You shall have the good treatment you deserve." A Spaniard levelled his musket and brought down the Englishman. The battle was renewed. So, for eight mortal hours, the fight raged. Three Spanish ships sank on the spot. Others drifted, unmanageable, upon the fatal sand- banks. Altogether, sixteen were sacrificed. Both the heroic San Mateo and San Felipe drifted on the Zeeland coast and were taken. Over fourteen hundred Spaniards were killed or wounded by the deadly low fire of the English. The latter lost less than one hundred. A squall swept down on the contending fleets and saved the Armada from utter destruction. Torrents of rain rendered firing impossible. The English held up to the wind. The Spaniards, too much disabled, ran before it. Amid the general carnage, Fourcade witnessed a singular tragedy. A great galleon was drift- ing, dismasted and foundering, towards the shore. Some Dutch vessels put out and seized her. She was a splendid prize. But what es- pecially excited the interest of her captors was a number of casks of Spanish wine. The thirsty Hollanders, devoting themselves assiduously to this portion of her stores, failed to notice that she was sinking. Suddenly there was a cry of dismay. The great hull plunged into the deep, carrying with her three hundred wretches, more or less drunk. The Revenge put out her boats and rescued a few who swam. But the most 64 King or Knave of the bibulous Hollanders ended their short carouse in a long sleep. So ended this eventful day for Christendom. It was decisive. The survivors of the Armada could never be re-formed for attack. All thought of assailing Elizabeth on her own soil must be abandoned. The only thing remaining for Si- donia was to get away as quickly as possible, with all his ships that he could save. But how? To pass the Channel again, with the cruel sea- rovers incessantly hovering on his flanks, can- nonading him and cutting off every straggler, was a thing not to be dreamed of. He must sail around Scotland. It would be a long and perilous circuit about those stormy, rock-bound coasts; but it was his sole hope. Now followed a night of deadly peril and cruel anxiety for the Spaniards. With a lowering sky overhead, with their relentless enemy hanging on to windward of them, they seemed to be drifting towards their fate. Every hour their water shoaled. The pilots declared it impos- sible for them to live long on that course. The Dons confessed themselves and awaited death. Towards morning, as if by a miracle, the wind suddenly eased off a point or two, and the remnant, snatched from the jaws of de- struction, stood out into the deeps of the North Sea. The English for several days hovered on their rear, making a brave show, but without firing a 5 65 King or Knave shot. Their ammunition was exhausted. When they were satisfied that the Dons were beyond the possibility of doing any mischief, they turned and sailed home. What man had left unfinished the storms of the northern seas completed. The shores of Scotland, the Orkneys, and Ireland were strewn with the wrecks of the Spanish ships and with the bodies of thousands of men. In the autumn a small remnant of the world's wonder found its way back to Corunna. Jean Fourcade returned to his master with the tidings of this amazing victory which re- vived the courage of all the Protestant world, in stamping the Reformation, it was held, with the seal of God's blessing. 66 CHAPTER THE FIFTH How the King of Navarre, following love's light, encounters a Ghost and lays it. THE road being open between Henry of Navarre and the Chateau of Cceuvres through the withdrawal of Mayenne, it was to be ex- pected that he would seize the opportunity of visiting its fair mistress. He did not, however. Day after day he lingered at Saint Jean d'Ange"ly, amusing his leisure with hunting and hawking, but doing nothing towards pushing his love- affair. In truth, he found himself in a dilemma. On the one hand, he could not reconcile himself to quit the neighborhood without one more inter- view with Gabrielle. A circumstance lately come to his knowledge led him to believe that he would meet with treatment from her quite other than that which he had lately experienced. On the other hand, the difficulty of obtaining an interview was great. Present himself openly he durst not. The meeting must be brought about clandestinely. But how? He could not expect to gain admission a second time in disguise. Fertile as his mind was in resources, it did not suggest any method of attaining his end. 67 King or Knave So he lingered, hoping that chance would do for him what design seemed unable to accom- plish. Had he known that two tender hearts were beating in sympathy with him, and two ingenious minds were working on the problem which perplexed him, he would have experienced great relief. One day a young man asked to see the King of Navarre in person. He was shown in. No sooner did the Huguenot leader lay eyes on him than he recognized the page of Coeuvres. But he made no sign. "Well, my good fellow," he said, "what is it that you wish?" " May it please your Highness to grant me redress for a great wrong that some of your sol- diers have done? My grandmother lives near by. Two days since some of your men came and seized a pig which she was fattening ; and when she begged and pleaded with them to spare the prop of her old age, they laughed and jeered at her and carried it away before her eyes." " A sad story, truly," laughingly replied the King of Navarre. " And, pray, what would you have me do ? " "If your Highness would compel the robbers to pay the price of the pig, which, no doubt, they have by this time eaten, it would be some solace of my poor grandmother's distress." " Ha ! ha ! That is a most reasonable re- quest, indeed. You would have me marshal 68 King or Knave my army and make inquest for a lost pig! Think you, sirrah, that where an army is to be fed, soldiers may be held to account for every pig or goose or chicken that disappears? Get you gone speedily ! " " But, your Highness," pleaded the other, earnestly, " this was no common pig. It was a fat pig, and beautifully spotted, and my grand- mother's pet in the bargain." " So much the worse for her. She should keep her pets better. Begone, I say." " I pray your Highness to hear me. This Pig- " Monsieur d'Aubign6, do me the favor of call- ing the officer of the guard." The gentleman addressed, who had been sit- ting by, rose and went out. No sooner had he left the room than Gaspard, seeing himself alone with the King of Navarre, suddenly lowered his voice, and, coming near, with a mysterious manner, said, " Never mind the pig, your Highness. Here is the important thing." At the same time he drew from his pocket and presented a note addressed in a sprawling handwriting to His Highness, the King of Navarre, and sealed with a great dab of wax, without a crest. The latter saw that there was something un- usual afoot. He quickly tore open the missive and read its contents. They ran thus : " If the wood-cutter who tells such beautiful stories has need of friends in his 69 King or Knave affairs, let him know that he has two who will not fail him. He can meet them, if he will come to-morrow evening. The bearer will guide him. His faithful servants, D. and L." Henry of Navarre looked up and saw Gas- pard smiling knowingly in his face. " Well, my young man," he said, laughingly, " we have met before to-day. These are the fair Diana and Lisette, I presume, who have sent me this note." " Just so, your Highness." " And how did they learn that there is any- thing in which they can help me ? " "That question it is not for me to answer. But if your Highness have patience, all will be made clear in due time." Just then D'Aubigne returned with the officer of the guard. The latter hurried forward to seize the offender, expecting an order to give him a taste of the wooden horse. What was his surprise, when he was checked by a ges- ture from the King of Navarre, who sat smiling broadly. " Captain," he said, " take this lad and see that he has lodging and good cheer. You need not guard him. He won't run away. To-mor- row I ride with him in quest of his grandmother's fat, spotted, pet pig." The next day the hero of Coutras, like a knight of the Round Table sallying forth to seek the Holy Grail, rode away with Gaspard as his squire. 70 King or Knave It was near evening when the two horsemen reached the vicinity of Cceuvres. Gaspard led his companion to a glade from which, through the tall trunks, the chateau was seen in the distance. Here he bade him await the com- ing of his friends. A warier man would have hesitated to accept such a situation. But caution had little part in the make-up of Henry of Navarre. On this occasion, as it proved, none was needed. Before long he saw two figures approaching, which he at once recognized as those of Diana and Lisette. " My faith ! " he said to himself, " I should be well content to entertain either singly." He greeted them most cordially. At first the women were a little shy. They were not quite sure of their ground in thrusting them- selves into the affairs of so illustrious a per- sonage. But the unaffected geniality of their visitor quickly put them at their ease. Ere long the heir to the second throne of Christen- dom and the two servant-women of Cceuvres were laughing and chatting as gayly as if they had been reared in a palace or he in a peasant's cot. " Mes belles," cried he, " this is truly charm- ing. You are most kind in giving me this pleas- ure, with your aid in prosecuting my enterprise. But tell me, I beg you, how did you find me out?" Then Lisette, with many an interruption from King or Knave the dark Provengale and many a burst of laugh- ter from the whole trio, told her story. Navarre winced a little when she related her eaves- dropping and, with unconscious mimicry, re- peated some of the impassioned phrases and lofty boasts which had made a great impression upon her. " Dame ! " she said, " the moment I heard you say, ' I shall come again, Mademoiselle, to lay at your feet the banners of a conquered army/ says I to myself, ' My faith ! That must be the Bearnais ; ' because I remembered how people said that, after the battle of Coutras, you carried away the King's army's flags and laid them down in the Countess de Quiche's hall and took her by the hand and led her over them." " By our Lady ! " burst in Diana, unwilling to be outshone in perspicacity, " the first time I clapped my eyes on you standing in the door- way, says I to myself, ' That is no wood-chopper. That is some great seigneur who is on a frolic or, may be, escaping from his enemies.' Diana Bouvary knows a gentleman when she sees one." " Ha ! ha ! " roared Navarre, " what of your invitation to come in and spin my Gascon yarns?" " Oh, dame ! " replied the other, disconcerted at this reminiscence, but with a bold front, " that was only a bit of chaff. You would not have had me betray you to the others, by get- 72 King or Knave ting down on my knees and asking leave to kiss your hand, would you? " Lisette resumed her recital. Her conviction that the disguised suitor of her young mistress was the King of Navarre, though it was over- whelmed with Barbezoux's contempt when she expressed it, had remained unshaken. When she learned that the army of the League had withdrawn, but the Huguenot leader still lin- gered at Saint Jean d'Ange"ly, she was filled with a great desire to ascertain whether her surmise was correct. In Diana she found an enthusiastic co-worker. She was more than willing to put Lisette's sug- gestion to the test. For the King of Navarre's birth in her beloved South and his reputation as " a devil of a fellow for love-affairs " made him, heretic though he was, a favorite hero of hers. The two women, then, put their heads together to devise a plan. Help from Barbezoux was, of course, out of the question. His faintest sus- picion must be avoided; but Gaspard was a hopeful subject. True, he did not feel over- kindly toward the stranger who had so quickly gained a place in Lisette's interest; but, after all, he was in the pliant stage of love. What would he not do? Lisette undertook to answer for his help. And she made good her pledge. The matter was accordingly arranged. On the plea of having important business at Saint Jean d'Angely, Gaspard was to obtain leave of absence 73 King or Knave for two days. With a joint note of the allied powers in his pocket, he was to devise some pretext for obtaining an audience of the King of Navarre. If he recognized in him their late guest, he must make an opportunity of delivering his despatch unobserved. Henry of Navarre completed the recital by relating, with much merriment of the whole trio, the story of the fat, spotted, pet pig of Gaspard's grandmother. It was that ingenious youth's ex- clusive invention, and he was very proud of it. Decidedly they had a jolly time together, these three, a king and two servant-women. Then came up the serious business of the hour. To bring about a meeting between the young chatelaine and her suitor was the object which all desired. But how was it to be effected? Now, when the lover was on the spot, nothing feasible suggested itself. Various plans were proposed; but each was open to some objec- tion. After a while Lisette said thoughtfully, " If only we could keep his Highness here ! Then, whenever anything favorable may happen, we can put him in the way of seizing the chance." " Yes," chimed in Diana. " We surely must not let his Highness go away without speaking with our young lady." Suddenly Lisette clapped her hands with glee. " I have it ! " she cried. " How stupid of us not to think of it sooner ! We will keep him in the chateau itself." 74 King or Knave " What an idea ! Have you lost your wits, Lisette? " exclaimed Diana. " Not at all. It can be done ; and we shall do it." " Where could we put him, for example?" " In the Countess Anne's chamber." " In the Countess Anne's chamber indeed ! Surely, you are crazy, Lisette. You know well, it is haunted. And the last guest who tried sleeping there rushed out shrieking in the dead of the night, and, they say, when morning came, his hair was white." " My faith ! " laughed Henry, " that is a gloomy picture you draw. Yet, do you know, mes belles, if there is not any more substantial difficulty than ghosts, I think I shall try it? I have had my full share of adventures with flesh and blood. And now I am longing to have an encounter with a spectre to round out my expe- riences. But why, pray, is it called the Countess Anne's chamber?" " They say that long ago," began Diana, in awestruck tones, " a Countess of Coeuvres did something which caused her husband to lock her up, like that poor lady of Roussillon that you told us about. She died in that room. And nobody ever knew whether she was stabbed or poisoned or starved to death. For many years the room was kept unopened. Then, after the old baron was dead, and people had ceased to talk of the story, once, when the house was full of guests, one was put there 75 King or Knave to sleep. And, in the night, when all was still, he roused the whole chateau with frightful shrieks. They found him shivering in his bed ; and he vowed he had seen an apparition fully eight feet high " " And moaning and clanking a chain, was it not?" interrupted Lisette. " Yes, just so, groaning and moaning and rattling a chain. And every time that anybody has tried to sleep there, though nobody had told him anything about it, it has always been the same. And the last one had his hair turned white all in a moment, and came near to going quite daft. Then the room was shut up alto- gether. And now, since the family is so small, only the master and our young lady, and the young master away in the army, and Monsieur le Baron not so rich as his fathers, by reason of the wars, and rarely has any guests, all that wing of the chateau is quite unused, and nobody ever enters it. Bah ! I would not be alone there in the dark, no, not if one gave me a bed of gold to sleep in to be mine forever. And I wonder, Lisette, how you could propose it for his Highness." " Ha ! ma belle," cried Henry, " you tell a story famously ; so that you have fired me with a desire to test this wonderful chamber. Doubt- less the Countess Anne will not begrudge a houseless gentleman a night's lodging in her bed, since she has no longer use for it." Lisette's eagerness and Navarre's audacity 76 King or Knave finally overcame Diana's terrors, and she fell in with the plan. In truth, the romance and the daring of the scheme of entertaining an illus- trious guest, a lover, too, in the chdteau, without the knowledge of any one but themselves, for not even Gaspard could be admitted to their confidence in this particular, quite captivated the imaginations of the women. More than ever they felt as if they had been suddenly translated from their commonplace tasks to important parts in a thrilling drama of high life. The details were quickly arranged. Diana would slip away to a cottage near by, where lived a crony of hers, one Antoine Lejeune, who would care for Navarre's horse and keep the matter quiet. The two women would prepare the chamber for their guest's occupation. And at the signal of a light shown in a certain win- dow of the ground-floor which they designated, he would know that all was in readiness. Henry of Navarre accompanied his two allies near to the chateau and then remained under the shadow of the trees while they entered. The building had once been an imposing one. But now its condition testified to the fallen fortunes of its present occupants. Espe- cially that portion opposite the observer was well-nigh ruinous. This circumstance did not escape his quick eye. It interested him greatly, because of its bearing on his hopes. He shrewdly surmised that something of the pinch of poverty might account for that calculating 77 King or Knave character which Gabrielle had so markedly shown in her late conversation with him. And, with his unbounded faith in his destiny, he en- couraged himself with the thought that here was a beauty who would not show herself insen- sible to the merits of a lover who might come crowned with the gifts of fortune. The circumstances in which he found himself were for his romantic temper full of inspiration. To sleep under a gentleman's roof, solely as the clandestine guest of the female domestics, not only did not embarrass him, it seemed ideally picturesque. It was a situation that rivalled those tales of Boccaccio on which, as he truly said, his youth had been fed. And the prospect of occupying a chamber reputed to be haunted by the distressed spirit of a murdered woman filled his cup of happiness. He awaited with eagerness the signal which would summon him to this novel adventure. When he saw a light in the designated win- dow, he advanced to it. Lisette set down her candle and leaned out, stretching her hands down to him. By the aid of these and of such foot-hold as he found in the masonry, Navarre clambered up and found himself in a room bare of furniture and pervaded with the musty odor of an apartment long unopened. From this his fair guide conducted him through a corridor, up a flight of creaking stairs, deeply overlaid with dust, to a second gallery, by which the chamber intended for his use was reached. 78 King or Knave With wonderful despatch the two women had fitted it for occupation. Though the evening was mild, a bright fire on the hearth crackled merrily and quickly dispelled the dampness. Two tall candles burned on the mantel. Their light fell on a table covered with snowy linen and garnished with a tempting array of cold viands, flanked by a tall silver tankard brim- ming with the baron's choicest vintage. An immensely wide, low bedstead had been freshly covered and invited to repose. " My faith ! " said Navarre laughingly, as he surveyed the cosy aspect of the chamber, " the Countess Anne entertains her guests right roy- ally. A thousand thanks to her fair and worthy representative," with a low bow to Lisette. The maid, herself well pleased with the result of her own and Diana's labors, and gratified with their guest's praise, looked around with an air of satisfaction, lingering in the doorway. Then she said, " Good-night, your Highness. May you rest well and be undisturbed ! " "Thanks and good-night, my beauty," said her guest. In a moment his arm was about her, and he paid her the gallant tribute of a kiss, an attention which she met with only a feeble protest. Then he fell upon the viands with the appe- tite which his fast since morning and his long ride had provoked. "Ha!" he said, laughing to himself, "Bar- bezoux little thought, when he so cunningly 79 King or Knave builded this venison-pasty, what lying Gascon would regale himself therewith. And what would the crusty old baron do, if some mali- cious sprite should whisper in his ear who, under his very roof, is quaffing his fine old wine, an angel entertained unawares? " Having finished his meal, he planted himself before the fire and took a leisurely survey of his surroundings. The chamber was garnished with antique and massive furniture. The posts of the huge bed- stead were wrought into grotesque shapes of hissing monsters reared on their tails and glar- ing into space with fiery eyes and protruding tongues. They supported a canopy of tapestry, upon which some hand, long since dead, per- haps that of the unfortunate Countess Anne, had embroidered the loves of Jupiter and Leda. The walls were similarly ornamented, but with edifying scriptural subjects, such as the story of David and Uriah's wife, and that of Susanna and the Elders. Against the two windows hung faded curtains, decayed and tattered. One flapped faintly in the night-wind blowing in softly through a broken pane. But the effect of this dismal environment was relieved by the cheerful aspect of the prep- arations which had been made for the guest. " It is not a bad place for a hermit, by Jove ! such as I am," said Navarre, looking around with the complacency which good cheer and generous wine breed in the healthy male breast. 80 King or Knave " Methinks, with such fare and, parbleu ! such attendance, I can endure a quite lengthened seclusion here. Ah, that suggests a thought. Given the same conditions, warmth, wine, and good food, would Saint Anthony have come down in holy legend as the invincible resister of bright-eyed temptation? Ah, methinks not, good saint ! Methinks, I see you falling as in- evitably as that other Anthony who fathered me. Oh, what tricky sprite moved my grand- parents to call their boy Anthony, of all names in the wide world? Surely, they did not dream that he would emulate the austerity of the saint. More likely, they had been reading Plutarch, and it was the Anthony of Cleopatra whom they had in mind. And a very fit name it proved to be, by all accounts. By the same token, the name might have been passed on to my father's son without receiving discredit. Yes, my faith ! I have lived pretty well up to the family record. Let me see. My father," counting on his fingers, " my mother's father, my grand-uncle Francis, the most renowned of them all, free lances and Boccacians, every one of them, not to mention some eccentricities on the female side. There was my gentle grandmother Marguerite's ' Heptarheron,' for example. Ha! What is that noise?" A slight rustle in the corridor had aroused his attention. He listened. A soft step was heard approaching. " Can it be," he said to himself smilingly, " that the Countess Anne 6 81 King or Knave comes so early? It is yet far from the witching hour when graves do yawn and ghosts re-visit their former abodes." The step came nearer, and in a moment the dark-eyed daughter of Roussillon stood in the doorway, shading a candle with her hand and looking at him shyly. " I am come, your Highness, to see how you fare and to wish you a good-night." Then the thought of his peril in the haunted chamber overcame her, and she added, with tears welling up, " Oh, indeed, your Highness, it breaks my heart to think of you lying here alone in the dark in this awful place." She stood looking at him with big, wistful eyes, the very embodiment of sympathetic womanhood. Who could see her without some responsive thrill? Not Navarre. With a pardonable desire to please, Diana had touched up her toilet with some care for this occasion, her first formal visit to her distin- guished guest. Her ebony hair was freshly combed and plaited. A short petticoat, of bright red stuff, such as the women of the South dearly love, falling a little below the knees, revealed shapely limbs encased in sky-blue stock- ings, which terminated in dainty slippers of black morocco leather with upturned, pointed toes, and fastened with rosettes of red ribbon. She had come, good soul, on an errand of solace and cheer ; and Henry of Navarre was not the man to show himself unappreciative of 82 King or Knave her solicitude. Their positions had become reversed, and it now behooved him to act the comforter. This he did by changing the sub- ject to a more agreeable theme. After all said and done, however, her heart seemed heavy with forebodings of evil ; and, when she finally took her departure, she left him with evident reluctance to the mysterious experiences which she so much dreaded. " My faith ! " he said to himself laughingly, " I little imagined that the temptation of Saint Anthony was to be re-enacted in this old chamber. But how little worthy of his role would the good saint think me, poor heretic, whose virtues are not at all of the ascetic order!" Then the occupant of the haunted chamber made an inspection of his quarters. Having ascertained that the walls were solid, and that there was no place of concealment behind the tapestries, he proceeded to fasten the door. He found that it had neither key nor bolt, and was fain to content himself with dropping the latch. " It is no matter," he said laughingly, " for, by all reports of their ways, hobgoblins, like lovers, make small account of bolts and bars. I suppose the Countess Anne could not by any means be locked out, if she once set her heart on visiting, me. At any rate, it would be a most ungallant thing to do, especially when one is sleeping in her bed." 83 King or Knave He then undressed himself, laid his drawn sword ready to hand, blew out the candles, and drew the covering about him. For a while he lay enjoying the luxury of mere repose, watch- ing the reflection of the fire flickering over the grotesque figures on the canopy and walls and making them still more unhuman. There was utter stillness everywhere, save the hooting of an owl perched on the roof and the soft fluttering of the tattered curtain in the night- wind sighing through the broken pane. Then, without so much as a thought of the Countess Anne, he sank into the dreamless sleep which waits on good digestion and an easy conscience. Navarre was awakened by a slight click. It was caused by the raising of the latch of his door, which then swung slowly open. He was instantly wide awake and on the alert. The fire had burned down to a few embers. The room was thus in darkness, save a few faint rays of moonlight penetrating the begrimed window- panes and stealing feebly through rents in the tattered curtains. There was light enough, how- ever, to show dimly a towering object which entered the chamber and moved slowly across the floor, with sepulchral groans and the rattle of a chain. It paused at the farther end of the room and seemed to turn about. Meanwhile Henry of Navarre lay coolly watch- ing the apparition. His first reflection was that it was a poor kind of ghost that needed an open door for its entrance. Now, as it fronted 84 King or Knave him, he gave a slight cough. The phantom started visibly and at once ceased its moans. " Who goes there ? " he challenged sharply. There was no reply ; but the spectre moved rapidly towards the door. Navarre, however, was too quick. With an agile leap from the bed, he threw himself in its path. In an instant a chain clanked on the floor, a broomstick which had supported a sheet high in the air fell with a clatter, and, at the same moment, Navarre's outstretched arms enfolded a slender feminine form. " Oh, Monsieur ! Oh, your Highness ! Oh, for God's sake, let me go ! " pleaded a girl's voice, in tones of terror, while the slight form writhed and struggled in his grasp. The elusive creature which he had caught, in its frantic efforts to escape, dragged him through the doorway into the corridor. Then he found himself thrown against a robuster female form, shaking convulsively with laughter. He loosened his hold on his captive. The moment he relaxed his grasp, the fleshy apparition slipped away from him and fled down the corridor, quickly followed by its mate. " Confound the creatures ! This hunting in couples is a fiendish thing," Navarre exclaimed testily. Then he resigned himself again to sleep. CHAPTER THE SIXTH How Gabrielle d'Es tries, picking wild flowers in the wood, gets a glimpse of the Magic Fleur-de-lis and straightway falls under its glamour. THE next morning Diana entered shame- facedly with Navarre's breakfast. "So, Diana," he cried, "this is your hospi- tality, is it? You first try to frighten me out of my wits with your terrible stories; then you and Lisette come here to play the ghost your- selves." " Oh, will your Highness forgive me ? " she returned, looking at him beseechingly. " We did not think to do your Highness any harm. It happened in this way, may it please you. Lisette and I, we could not so much as sleep a wink, all for worrying about you. Then says I, ' Let 's take a candle and see how things are.' So we stole softly into the corridor. And there wasn't any sound. And Lisette says, 'I don't believe the Countess Anne is coming to-night,' says she. 'What do you think, Diana, his Highness would do, if the countess should walk into his room?' " ' Dame ! ' says I, ' it would be the death of him, I 'm afraid.' 86 King or Knave " ' I don't believe it,' says Lisette ; ' he is so unconcerned, I fancy he would n't mind it any more than if you or I walked into the room, or not half so much,' and then she laughed in a queer way, like the giddy thing she is.' " Presently she says, ' Do you know, Diana, I have a mind to try him? ' " ' What do you mean ? ' says I. " ' To play the ghost myself,' says she. " ' Are you crazy? ' says I. ' Do you want to kill his Highness outright?' " ' Oh, you silly goose ! ' says she. ' Don't I tell you there would not be any harm in just walking into his room and out again ?' And she said I must come with her, and if you were frightened, we could tell you at once who it was, and not let you do yourself any hurt. I did not like it much, your Highness, because I do not think people ought to make a jest of such solemn things. But she overpersuaded me. And your Highness knows the rest. And I hope your Highness will forgive me," she con- cluded, looking at him imploringly with her big, wistful eyes. It would have needed a harder heart than Henry of Navarre's to refuse absolution to such a penitent. After a while he said to her, " What is the chance of my having an interview with your mistress to-day ? " " Ah, yes, your Highness," returned Diana eagerly. " Lisette and I have talked of that, 8? King or Knave and we have a plan. She will prevail on our young mistress to take a walk in the forest. Then you will have a chance of meeting her. Does your Highness like the scheme? " " Excellently, ma belle. How greatly I am favored in having my affairs cared for by two such devoted friends as you and Lisette ! " Diana smiled her thanks for this appreciation and went her way. Later Lisette ran hastily into the room, with her coif and cape on, ready to go out. " Listen, your Highness," she cried eagerly, " and mind well what I tell you." " Ah, ha ! Now I have caught you, my queen of hobgoblins. I owe you a score for the terrible fright you gave me last night. And T shall take full satisfaction " " Oh, let me alone, your Highness ! " beseech- ingly. " Can't you be reasonable for a moment, and listen to what I am trying to tell you ? Oh, keep off, I say, else I vow I won't help you a particle more ! There now, that 's sensible. Now listen. My young mistress is going out for a walk in the park. She will take me with her, of course. I shall guide her to a certain spot which you will know in this way " There now ! Stand just there. No nearer ! I must begin all over again. I shall guide her to a spot which you will know in this way. You follow the path that leads through the glade where we talked last evening. You remember ? Where it turns to the left by a blasted oak, you 88 King or Knave keep straight on, and you come to a beautiful spot Well, now I trust you have punished me enough for my little frolic last night ! You come to a beautiful spot where wild flowers grow in a wide opening, and there is a big tree in the midst of it You hide yourself near and you come out at the proper time." " How soon do you start?" " Very quickly. I shall contrive some pretext for detaining the young mistress a few minutes. In the mean time, do you hurry down and out by the window by which you came in. No- body will see you, because nobody comes on this side of the chateau. Then away into the forest ! " A half-hour later Gabrielle d'Estrees, saunter- ing leisurely through the forest-glades, stooped to pluck a wild flower. As she rose, she was startled at finding the King of Navarre standing before her. She drew back in surprise and some anger. Her maid gave a shriek. " Pardon me, Mademoiselle, this unexpected visit," said the intruder, uncovering and bowing low. " Your presence is indeed unlocked for, Mon- sieur, at this time and at this place," returned Gabrielle, with hauteur. " May I ask to what circumstance I owe the honor of a visit from you, Monsieur, under so extraordinary condi- tions? Have you forgotten that I begged you to make your recent visit the last? " " Pardon me, Mademoiselle. I have something 89 King or Knave to communicate which I believe you will agree with me warrants this apparent intrusion," re- turned the other, again bowing profoundly. " But I must ask the honor of speaking to you alone." "Excuse my incredulity, Monsieur," replied the lady, eying him with disdainful suspicion, " I know of no subject on which you can hold converse with me to which my maid may not properly listen." " On the honor of a soldier, Mademoiselle, I have that to communicate to you which no ear but yours must hear. So soon as I have men- tioned it, you will see the wisdom of giving me an interview alone." "Lisette, see yonder tree," said the young chatelaine, pointing to a fallen one a little way off, but beyond ear-shot, " go and sit there." " Ah, Mademoiselle, so fair and so cruel ! " remonstrated Navarre. But Gabrielle turned to him an inexorable front and only said, " Now, Monsieur, may it please you to proceed with your communica- tion? I listen. But, hold ! Tell me first, I pray you, how you discovered me here, in the depth of the forest" " I was approaching the chateau, Mademoi- selle, to present myself to you in proper form, when I had the incredible good fortune to descry you leaving it and entering the forest-path. I ventured to follow your steps and to take this method of meeting you. Your goodness will 90 King or Knave pardon the liberty I have of necessity taken, will it not, Mademoiselle?" "You venture strangely, Monsieur, on what you are pleased to call my goodness. But go on. I am ready to hear you." "Perhaps I should rather have said I seek your advice, Mademoiselle." "Impossible, Monsieur! No subject is con- ceivable on which my humility can counsel your illustrious Excellency." Then, with a sar- castic inflection, " Surely it were better to con- fer with your long-time friend, the Countess de Guiche, who is a lady of ripe years, I am told, and wide experience. "That lady and I are no longer friends, Mademoiselle." " Indeed, Monsieur ! Since how long, I won- der. Some new star, then, has risen in the heavens ? " " Say not a star, Mademoiselle, but a sun, the same that sheds its beauty on this favored spot." " Oh, Monsieur ! Is it not time to leave off this absurd pretence? Do you take me for a child that is to be caught with fine words? Come, let us speak of something else. What- ever it be you have to say, let me hear it, I pray you, without further delay." " I would consult you, Mademoiselle, as to the mourning which it is proper for me to wear for a near relative lately deceased." "A strange request to make of me, surely! Pray, why am I so honored?" King or Knave " Consider, Mademoiselle, since you will not allow me to plead a tenderer motive, that there is no other lady of my acquaintance near, and this is a case for a woman's fine taste and judg- ment." " But, surely, you are not in so dire extremity as you represent yourself, Monsieur. The King of Navarre never lacks female friends. Where is Mademoiselle de Fosseuse? " " You should now say the Baroness de Cinq- Mars, Mademoiselle." " Indeed ! I wonder who is to be congratu- lated, you or the baron. But go on, Monsieur. First, who is this relative who has died ? " "My cherished brother-in-law, Frangois d'Anjou." "What? The Duke of Anjou dead!" " Even so, Death ever loves a shining mark." " And you would have me advise you, Monsieur, how to mourn this brother-in-law whom, even when dead, you cannot mention without sarcasm. Surely, Monsieur, when the heart hates, the body may be dispensed from wearing a mockery of grief." " True, Mademoiselle, where a private person only is concerned. But there are certain pro- prieties to be observed by one in my station. The bereaved kinsman may rejoice inwardly, but the next heir of the throne of the Valois must wear the outward semblance of mourning." " Ah ! " exclaimed Gabrielle, with a start. The effect of the communication so adroitly 92 King or Knave made was at once visible in a change of her manner and a greater show of interest. Presently she said, " There was a difference, I have been told, between you and the late duke." " I thoroughly despised him." "An early rivalry, I have understood, for a lady's favor. Madame de Sauve, was it not?' "True, we competed for her smiles; but it was not for that I despised him. I can tolerate an open and honorable rival. Let him win who can. But this creature betrayed every trust, public or private, ever confided to him. There- fore I loathed him, because there was not a spark of manhood in his cowardly nature." Gabrielle resumed presently, with a kindlier manner, " It seems to me, Monsieur, since you seek my advice, that your mourning should be simple and merely formal." "Nay, fair Gabrielle, I shall make it as rich as my purse will allow, rich enough to grace a king's obsequies." "Why this, Monsieur? He never reigned, nor ever came nearer to a crown than his at- tempt to marry the Queen of England." Navarre laughed, " Another of the ridiculous fiascoes of his mountebank career. He marry Elizabeth ! He, the drivelling dolt, mate with the strongest and shrewdest sovereign in all Christendom, twenty-five years older than he, and accustomed to deal with men of brains and force! Yet this miserable creature kept the 93 King or Knave English people in a state of constant dread lest their Queen should marry a Catholic. Little she dreamed of it ! " "Why, then, Monsieur, mourn him as king?" " Nay, fair Gabrielle, you misconceive my meaning. I look forward to a king's funeral at no distant day." "What king's, Monsieur?" "The only king's whose obsequies would interest me, his whose death would make me King of France." Gabrielle started. Then she looked at him keenly. " You speak in riddles, Monsieur. His Majesty is alive and well, and yet you talk of his funeral." " Will you think that I speak wildly," said Navarre, coming closer and fixing her with in- tent gaze, " if I say that the King of France as surely nears his death as yonder sun goes to his setting? Have faith in my destiny and believe that it is your future King who lays his heart at your feet and sues for your favor." Gabrielle tossed her head defiantly, " These are big words, Monsieur, but they carry no weight." Yet it was evident that they impressed her. " Listen to me, and you will be convinced. What if I tell you that there is an open breach between the King and the League, and that he has fled from Paris?" "What do you say? Then there is war be- tween the King and the Duke of Guise?" asked Gabrielle, pale with alarm. 94 King or Knave " Precisely so. And now, if you will consider the ferocious enmity of the Leaguers, the un- bounded ambition of Guise, the fanaticism of the monks, and the bigotry of the populace, do you not see that Henry already stands within the shadow of death? Now, since he has come to an open breach with Guise, the weaker man will fall. And which is the weaker you well know." " I much fear that what you say is true, Mon- sieur," said Gabrielle gloomily, without the least trace of her former hauteur. Then she suddenly exclaimed, " Oh, my poor brother ! What will he do?" "You have a brother in the royal army?" asked the other eagerly. "Yes, Monsieur, a sub-officer in the Picard regiment of the French Guard." " Doubtless, then, he is with the King at Chartres," said Navarre. " So I presume, Monsieur. Of so much I am sure, that he would never lift his hand against his King. Least of all would he join the League. Gaston is a good Catholic, but he loathes the whole monkish tribe. But tell me, pray, how this fearful state of things came to pass." Navarre related the story of Guise's entry into Paris, and of the Barricades, with all that followed. Insensibly Gabrielle's indifference melted in the absorbing interest of the theme. He was not slow to perceive his advantage and to push 95 King or Knave it. Before they parted, he secured a promise that she would meet him at the same hour and place the next day. " But," interposed Gabrielle, " how can you come so far? Your quarters are quite distant, are they not?" "True, but I am lodging nearer, at Eaux- vertes." " But Eauxvertes is five full leagues away. You propose to return there and to come here again to-morrow?" "Ah, adorable Gabrielle, in the thought of you who would take note of distance?" The young lady received this compliment with a graciousness which she had not accorded to his earlier speeches. And when her suitor, in taking his leave, lifted her beautiful hand to his lips, his heart bounded with joy because she made no resistance. The next day they met, and again on the next, and so from day to day their meetings were continued. One day Henry produced a lute. Standing before her, his eyes fixed on hers, glowing with passionate admiration, he sang these improvised words, " Charmante Gabrielle, Percd de mille dards, Quand la gloire m'appelle A la suite de Mars, Cruelle de" parti e ! Que ne suis-je sans vie Ou sans amour ? " 96 King or Knave She was thrilled with a new delight. How fascinating was that voice, so rich and so res- onant with feeling ! And it was herself who inspired both the singer and the song. Gentle Marguerite of Angouleme, grandmother of her suitor, in the zenith of her loveliness had had her poets. She had inspired Marot's verse. Gabrielle knew by heart the lyric of Ronsard in which he extolled her as " the pearl " (mar- guerite) " of the princesses of our age." And now she had her own poet, a royal one, pleading before her as her lover, with eyes of passionate longing ! Who could resist the witchery of such a suit, urged by such a man, under the bright sky of June, while the soft air breathed love, and the murmuring leaves whispered love? Some deep elements of Gabrielle's nature were stirred. Its poetry, its passion, its pride of race, all responded to the appeal. She moved in an atmosphere of enchantment. What a sub- tle charm there was in these stolen meetings beneath the green-wood tree ! Navarre, too, was living in a state of ecstatic delight. He afterwards said that, had he been a Catholic, he would willingly have accepted the imposition of a thousand years of Purgatory, on the condition of enjoying those few days of rapture. 97 CHAPTER THE SEVENTH How the Sieur d^Estr^es unwittingly binds faster the spell of the Fleur-de-lis, and how Louis de Bellegarde, coming to the chateau of Cceuvres in quest of his heart, finds its keeper enchanted and his heart shivering in the cold. A FEW days after Gabrielle's last meeting with her clandestine suitor, three persons walked under the old trees about the chateau of Cceuvres, in the delicious air of a fine June morning. One was the fair young chatelaine. The second was her father. Antoine d'Estr^es, Baron de Coeuvres, had not long passed middle life; but he might easily have been mistaken for an older man by several years. His light-brown hair was plenti- fully sprinkled with silver. Care had graven its marks deep about his eyes, which were keen and of a steely gray. Bushy and grizzled eye- brows, an habitual contraction of the forehead, an aquiline nose, and sharp features whose gen- eral effect was heightened by a peaked beard, gave him a certain falcon-like aspect. An observer would have said without hesitation that he was a man of haughty disposition and irascible temper. 98 King or Knave He had come to manhood at a time when the religious wars were in their early and bitter intensity. A stanch royalist and a fervent Catholic, he had thrown himself wholly into the struggle. When the resources of Catherine de* Medici were at their lowest ebb, he had re- sponded to a direct appeal from her with the proceeds of a mortgage on the most valuable portion of his estate. Having received, at the battle of Jarnac, a severe wound which entailed a life-long lameness and incapacitated him for service in the field, he applied for the governor- ship of a walled town, confidently believing that his sacrifices for the crown would meet with this moderate recognition. But his loyalty received a cruel blow, when he saw the post bestowed on one of the worst of the court favorites ; and his faith in the honor of the house of Valois was rudely shaken when its debt to him was per- sistently ignored, while, year after year, the crown revenues were lavished on a base and debauched crew. What could he do? Life in Paris was no longer possible to him. Too poor to vie with the gorgeous creatures whose existence his liberality had helped to render possible, too proud to become a hanger-on at a court where men of tried fidelity must fawn on a Quelus, a Maugiron, or a Me'grim, if they would keep their footing, he had retired to the poverty and obscurity of his chateau. There he lived with a few servants, keeping meagre state where 99 King or Knave his ancestors had dwelt as influential magnates, watching the relentless advance of decay, visible in the very walls of his dwelling. The death of his wife, while Gabrielle was still a child, had left him more than ever an embittered man, the impulsiveness of youth turned by disappointment into a querulous dis- content. Hopeless for himself, he found almost the sole interest of his life in his children, Gaston and Gabrielle. To them he looked to repair the decayed fortunes of his house and restore the crumbling walls of Cceuvres. Ambition for them had become his absorbing passion. By dint of ceaseless iteration of its maxims, he had succeeded in making it his chil- dren's religion. From their earliest years they had learned to accept the restoration of their family's departed glory as the chief end of their being. Advancement in the world, by methods suited to the sex of each, was tacitly regarded as the one object which could render their exis- tence justifiable. The mournful spectacle of their father's premature decline and embittered life seemed to lift this calculating temper to the high plane of filial devotion. Withal, his bitter experience of royal ingrati- tude had in no way shaken the baron's loyalty to the monarchy; it was part of the divine con- stitution of things. To doubt the kingly idea would have been to doubt God. Therefore, when young Gaston neared manhood, no other career was thought of for him than that of the 100 King or Knave army. He must serve the King, as his fathers had done for generations. As to Gabrielle, it was firmly held by the baron and accepted without question by her, that the one road to the accomplishment of her destiny was a brilliant marriage. Her beauty and grace were on both sides viewed less as personal gifts than as a possession of the family. Of late the baron, seeing his daughter bloom- ing into a womanhood of rare attractiveness, had experienced not a little chagrin in realizing that her isolated life afforded no opportunity for ful- filling her destiny. Of what avail were her charms, if they were to be hidden away from the view of possible suitors? How to bring her into the great world and give her beauty an adequate field, had become a constantly per- plexing problem. The third person of the trio walking under the trees on that June morning was in every particular the very opposite of the Baron de Cceuvres. He had the sure charm of youth, health, a clear, frank eye, an honest face, and easy grace of manner. One would say at a glance that here was a wholesome, clean-hearted, generous young fellow, brave and true. His voice, moreover, had that ring of sincerity which can never be counterfeited, the unmistakable utterance of an honest, kindly nature. His form was manly and vigorous. His dress pleased the eye by its well-ordered simplicity and seemli- ness; and he carried himself with the ease of 101 King or Knave good breeding and a composure based on abso- lute self-respect. Walking by the side of Gabrielle d'Estre"es, Louis Lenormand de Bellegarde might have seemed to gods and men a most fitting mate for the beautiful girl. Two such fair young beings ancient Greece would have set upon a pedestal and worshipped as worthy types of the eternal life-forces. The Baron de Cceuvres was neither a god nor a Greek, but an impoverished aristocrat, full of the intellectual vices of his class, his estimate of wealth and station exaggerated by the loss of both. Therefore he looked upon the young man's presence with some uneasiness. If he came as the playmate of his children in earlier years, and his son's dearest friend in the present, he was warmly welcome. But if any thought of wooing Gabrielle was in his mind, it must be made clear to him by the most decided attitude that such a suit was not to be dreamed of. For his condemnation was in one word, pov- erty. The circumstances of his family were too similar to those of the D'Estre"es to commend him to the baron as a suitor for his daughter. The emotions which Bellegarde experienced at this interview were complex. His father and Gabrielle's had been comrades in arms in the earlier religious wars. Later, when they attended the court with their families, they were near neighbors in Paris ; and a community of opinions drew the two households into very close rela- 102 King or Knave tions. During this period little Louis was the constant companion of Gaston and Gabrielle. About the same time both families retired to their several estates ; but this circumstance did not interrupt the intimacy of the two boys, who were wont to spend many months with each other in alternate visits. Thus Louis and Gabrielle passed through childhood and early youth in the most intimate association. Their friendship was of the warm- est. Not only was each fond of the other; Gabrielle looked up to and admired Louis. With the development of his character, he ex- hibited more and more those manly qualities which command women's respect. He was brave, true, and generous, and possessed a maturity and stability which she missed in her brother. In time he came to stand for all that she esteemed highest and worthiest. Louis's feeling for Gabrielle was compounded of brotherly affection and loverlike devotion. His only sister had died early, and his beautiful playmate inherited the protecting care which a healthy-minded boy naturally bestows on a sister. As they grew older, this tender childish relation ripened into something warmer. Each was in- tensely happy in the other and in sharing every experience which they could possibly have in common. The one was at her best when the other was at her side; and to him existence seemed incomplete except when he shared it with her. Without a word spoken of love, each 103 King or Knave acted with constant reference to this relation. It was the ideal element of their lives. Unhappily or happily this idyl was broken in upon by the rude exigencies of life. Louis must make himself a career, and his father was fortunate in securing him a position as a subaltern officer in the force which the Duke of Anjou led into the Low Countries. During this absence of two years from France Gabrielle was always present to Louis. He never dreamed of any other woman. Had there been a formal betrothal between them, he could not have been more absolutely loyal in deed and thought, simply because it was his nature to be constant. She continued to be an in- separable feature of every hope and picture of the future, not less than when he saw her frequently. After the ignominious failure of the expedi- tion and the return of the force to France, Louis, with two years' experience to his credit, readily obtained an appointment in a regiment of the King's guard. Here he was overjoyed to find himself a com- panion in arms of Gaston. In the freedom of their intercourse Louis guided the conversation frequently to the theme which lay so near to his heart, and he soon knew that his friend would support him in his suit for Gabrielle's hand. This conviction had been recently confirmed when, on his shyly intimating that he would like to visit Cceuvres, Gaston enthusiastically 104 King or Knave approved of the proposition and warmly invited him to make a stay of some days. Now he was come, his first emotion was one of bewilderment. More than three years had passed since their last meeting. He had left Gabrielle little more than a child. He found her a woman of dazzling beauty. At the same time he felt instinctively that their relation was no longer the same. Something, he knew not what, had come between them. He seemed to read in her eyes that, in the advance from childhood to womanhood, new elements, too subtle for his penetration, had entered into her character. The artless girl was no longer there. The pang which he experienced in realizing that she had, as it were, eluded him, was unmis- takable proof to himself how deeply he loved her. Besides, he felt abashed. What would this beautiful girl, who might have the world at her feet, care for him ? On her side Gabrielle was not free from agita- tion. She, too, had had her day-dreams, and in these Louis had figured more or less constantly. Now, when she stood face to face with him, a conflict of emotions agitated her. Certain recent experiences rushed into her mind. The sight of him arrayed her earlier self as an accuser of her present self; and she felt something like a con- sciousness of guilt. It was no wonder that, thus agitated, she seemed to Louis cold and con- strained. When he made bold to try to catch her eye, it avoided his. Once when she stooped 105 King or Knave to gather some wild flowers, he bent over quickly to assist her, and whether by chance or purpose, touched her hand. It was instantly drawn away. Glancing quickly at her, he saw that the color had left her cheek. From what he was himself expe- riencing, he divined some conflict of emotions. But there was no opportunity, even had she been otherwise minded, to establish a corre- spondence of looks and signs. For, courteous as the baron showed himself to his son's friend, he did not cease to keep a watchful eye on him. He divined a reason for the young man's visit; and it may be that he observed in one or both some indications of emotion which were not to his liking. At all events, he was resolute in his determination not to allow the least room for the indulgence of sentiment. If Bellegarde's coming had a purpose, he would make it plain to him by his attitude that there was not the faintest encouragement for him to proceed farther in that direction. He kept him steadily engaged in conversation on matters of public interest, as if Gabrielle were not present; and his visitor could not fail to take the hint which his manner plainly conveyed. Bellegarde had just now come from the royal headquarters at Chartres, and the talk naturally turned upon the incidents preceding the King's departure from Paris. The baron listened with deep interest and rising anger to the young offi- cer's story of the Barricades. "The wretched canaille!" he hissed, as he 106 King or Knave heard how the mob had shut in the royal troops, and virtually imprisoned the King in the Louvre. He groaned at his own impotence to do any- thing for his King. But, thank God ! he was represented at his sovereign's side by his son, who would not fail to uphold the family's name for loyalty. To all this talk Gabrielle listened intently. " How does this situation affect the King of Navarre? " she asked, with an air of mild interest, when a pause came. Her father turned to her with a look of sur- prise. " Oh, it makes his position immensely stronger," replied Bellegarde. " War between the Leaguers and the loyal Catholics is the very situation which he would have desired. See whether the nimble Bearnais does not soon turn it to his advantage ! " "Yes," chimed in the baron, "not the least evil of this traitorous association of fanatics led by demagogues is, that it renders the King powerless to crush heresy." " There are those, Monsieur le Baron," said Bellegarde, "who have already counselled his Majesty to make an alliance with the Be'arnais, giving the Huguenots reasonable concessions, since one enemy is more easily dealt with than two, and armed rebellion is a worse crime than heresy." Gabrielle's eyes lighted with eager interest, but she said nothing. 107 King or Knave So the talk drifted on, turning always upon topics of public interest. Their walk ended, Bellegarde spoke of going away. But the baron would not listen to his immediate departure. " What ! " he exclaimed, " go away, after your long journey, without sitting at our table ! Im- possible ! " So his visitor remained to share the dinner at the chateau. But the host's guarded hospitality gave no hint of a longer stay, such as Gaston had urged. When Louis was near taking his leave, at a moment when her father's attention was occu- pied elsewhere, as if moved by a sudden impulse, Gabrielle lifted her hand for him to kiss it. How cold her fingers were ! And how they trembled ! That was the only crumb of comfort which he took away with him; but it was worth much. He rode away fully believing that, if the baron could be won over, the only obstacle in his way would be removed. 108 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH How Henry of Guise makes love while Henry of France makes prayers, and how each fares to his heart 'j desire. WINTER, chill and drear, lay upon the old castle at Blois. Christmas was at hand. But there was, God knows, little enough of Christ- mas cheer in that gloomy pile. Sombre without, within it was dark with plots and counterplots, and its air was thick with portents of evil. The approaching Noel brought to its inmates no benediction from the Prince of Peace. War was there, not the less deadly because he hid his grim visage under a decent mask. Henry had made peace with the League, by accepting its terms, in the hope of placing him- self at its head. But Guise and the other chiefs had views of their own. They received Henry into the League, not as its master, but its tool. The Estates of the realm were sitting, and that assemblage daily saw the subject triumph over the sovereign. The King of Paris, Guise, openly lorded it over the King of France and insulted him ostentatiously. In an address to the Es- tates Henry had referred to recent movements 109 King or Knave incited by factious nobles. Guise demanded that the obnoxious phrase be expunged from the record, and the monarch must needs yield. Plainly this state of things could not last. Insolence had reached its limit. Chosen leader of the League, idol of the populace, by his reluctant master's appointment Captain-general of the kingdom, the upstart duke towered above all subjects, while the last of the Valois, pitifully shrunken, looked up, in evident awe and secret hate, to the overshadowing colossus, in public deferring to him, in his oratory imprecating him and gnashing his teeth in helpless rage in the intervals of passionate prayer. Crillon, the intrepid, summoned to his mas- ter's closet, listened to a whispered question and blurted out his blunt answer, " Sire, if you wish me to send a cartel to the Duke of Guise and meet him in open combat, my sword is yours to command. But as to aught else, I am no assassin." Not all, however, were so scrupulous. There were mysterious conferences. At unusual hours royal minions slunk back and forth with omi- nous activity. The air grew thick with whispers of some dire event impending. Amid all this sinister agitation the one per- son unconcerned was the one most interested. Guise loftily ignored the perils of the situation. Well-meant warnings he made light of. Sitting down to dinner, he found folded in his napkin a note from some well-wisher. He read it, laughed no King or Knave contemptuously, and tore the paper in pieces, saying aloud, with a curl of his lip, " He dares not." Again, while he was at table, a note was slipped into his hand. He took it with indiffer- ence. Probably it was another variation of the same tune. He opened it languidly. Ha ! he is interested now ! See his eye light up ! Note the color flushing his cheek ! The first sight of the handwriting riveted his attention. He needed not the initials at the bottom to tell him who was the writer. He crammed the billet into his pocket and re- entered the conversation, but with a glitter of excitement in his eye that bespoke a mind occupied with some topic vastly more interest- ing than the talk around him. Night, sombre and silent, wrapped the old castle in its slumbrous folds. For the greater part, it was in profound darkness. Only in the wing occupied by the King a faint light glim- mered where perhaps the pious monarch kept his prayerful vigil. From a chamber-door a tall figure emerged, candle in hand, and passed with noiseless tread through long, silent corridors, up one flight and down another, till he reached a door from whose latch hung a bit of ribbon, scarcely noticeable except to a seeking eye. Without ceremony he entered. Evidently a guest was looked for. In a silver in King or Knave lamp a light burned, surrounded by a globe of colored glass. On a table at the side cold viands were arranged, with fruits and confections and wine. A faint perfume pervaded the apart- ment. Altogether, the atmosphere was inde- finably sensuous. The visitor threw off the cloak which had dis- guised him against any chance encounter. The haughty features of Le Balafre, handsome in spite of the scar which gave him his popular title, were revealed. In a moment a woman entered through the opposite door and advanced with a little joyful cry of " Henry, my darling ! " " Charlotte, my little one ! " Then the two were locked in each other's arms. Charlotte de Semblangay belonged to a type of womanhood of which the world has known some notable examples. Let Cleopatra stand for the whole class, women themselves con- sumed with passion, and whose baleful fasci- nation for the opposite sex is not balanced by any principles of prudence, of morality, or of religion. She was such a woman as those for whom men are every day throwing themselves away, counting the world well lost, if they can but die in the full flood of their feeling, and not be left stranded on some tideless shore of neglect and oblivion. If anything had been wanting in her natural disposition to adapt her completely to 112 King or Knave this career, her training in the school of Cath- erine de' Medici would have amply supplied the deficiency. Having begun life as a maid of honor to that lady, she soon acquired the freedom for a career of gallantry which a husband's name bestowed, and, as Madame de Sauve, she became the candle around which the giddy young moths of the court incessantly fluttered. Among these none were more conspicuous than Henry of Navarre, during his enforced sojourn at the Louvre, and his brother-in-law, Alengon. These two quarrelled and almost fought for her favor. Guise, too, early became one of her devoted followers. Death having by this time removed Monsieur de Sauve, she had the opportunity of making another man happy, and she bestowed this distinction on the Marquis de Noirmoutier. Though years had rolled by since her youth- ful conquests, and the boys who had flung themselves at her feet were growing into middle- aged men, she retained much of that fateful charm which in her first days had drawn princes in her train. Age, it seemed, could not wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Still in her dark eyes burned the fires of unquench- able passion, and in either cheek excitement had lighted a bright spot which glowed the more in contrast with her prevailing pallor. Their greetings and their first mutual endear- ments over, the lovers sank beside each other on a divan piled with cushions. 8 113 King or Knave " Who would have dreamed that you were near, my sweet?" murmured Guise tenderly. " When I read your note, for very joy I could scarcely believe my eyes." " Ah ! How was it possible for me to remain longer away, Henry, while you are in peril ? " "Tut! tut! little woman, what nonsense is this? Evidently somebody has been playing on your credulity. But I thank him, neverthe- less, for the happiness he has provided me." "Ah! but, Henry, my wilful boy," she re- sumed, hanging on him and looking with tender pleading into his eyes, " why will you run these fearful risks? Oh, believe me, you are in dan- ger ! The letter which came to me said, ' One in whom you are deeply interested is rushing to his doom. He is driving a weak man to desperation. Even a worm will turn, when it is trodden upon. There are rumors already of some plot against him of whom I write. His life is in hourly peril; but he makes light of every warning. You can influence him, if any one can. Hasten, if you would save him.' " "Who wrote it, my Charlotte?" " Ah ! that I do not know, my Henry. It was not signed. But it was as plain that it came from a true well-wisher, as that it referred to you." " And you would terrify me with the maun- derings of some anonymous scribbler who thought it a good joke to show how he could make you come running here ! God bless him 114 King or Knave for it ! And all this pother about that despica- ble creature who has not the spirit to kill a mouse ! When I bearded him in the Louvre, just before the Barricades, that was the time for him to strike, if he ever had the manhood to do it. And, my faith ! for a little while it certainly looked squally. There were Crillon and the rest of the court gang scowling at me. But I put on a bold face and blustered it out. Bah ! my little one, what is there to fear from such a monklet as this, whose chief happiness is in the company of shavelings and poodles? By the way, let me tell you a good joke. My sister, of Montpensier, carries a pair of scissors with which she vows that she will some day give him the sacred tonsure and make a genuine monk of him. Why so bitter against him, do you ask? Let me whisper it to you, little one. Be- cause he would not have her. Ha ! ha ! That is the way that history is made. So, parbleu ! she becomes a red-hot Leaguer and overflows with zeal for the Church. That is the sort of folk that we have to do with. Bah ! I am sick of all this sham. Let us talk of something real. Let us turn to love. Of that alone one never tires." As often as she essayed to resume the subject of her fears, he smothered her pleadings with new endearments, insistent on drowning every care in a whirlpool of passion. At the same hour, in Paris, within a sumptu- ous chamber of the Guise palace, a distinguished "5 King or Knave lady was putting the last stitches of embroidery upon a little garment which, when it was fin- ished, she added to a store of others, all unused, which for months had been growing under her hand. Then, having commended her absent lord to the care of an all-seeing Providence, she retired to rest. And at the same hour, in Blois, within the same old castle, a man lay tossing on his couch, thinking always of the same person, some- times awake and strangely mingling prayers and curses, then falling into fitful sleep, haunted by sights and sounds of terror, from which he would start affrighted, only to renew the same dismal experience. Morning was nearing its dreary dawn, cold and dark. There was unusual movement about the castle. His pious Majesty had summoned his council for an early meeting, intending, he said, to go into retreat with the good brothers of Notre Dame de C16ry, to spend an edifying Christmas-tide. The councillors were all assem- bled, except his grace of Guise. A messenger was sent to invite him to come quickly. At length the tall form of Le Balafre' came striding through the gloom of the dim morning. Passing the door of a little chapel, he heard voices chanting orisons within. These were monks whom Henry had bidden hold a special service at that hour, to ask God's blessing on " an undertaking that would redound greatly to 116 King or Knave His glory." A most admirable device surely for getting God on his side, while keeping Him in the dark as to what He was asked to do ! Mounting the stairs leading to the King's apartments, Guise found them thronged by the famous Forty-five, the royal body-guard, as- sembled ostensibly to hand him a petition for their pay, long in arrears. No friends of his there, for he had recommended that they be disbanded, not relishing a corps of janizaries independent of his control. Now they so crowded the stairway, that his attendants, "un- able to pass, must perforce remain below. In the antechamber were several gentleman waiting. They showed him scant courtesy. Af- terwards they remarked that he looked pale and haggard. Apparently he felt faint, for he asked for some confections. Some candied plums were brought to him in a little box. He took some and threw the rest on the table, saying, " Help yourselves, gentlemen." The eye next to the scar watered. He called for a handkerchief. One was fetched him. In a few minutes came a secretary from the King, to conduct him into an inner cabinet, and he disappeared. A moment more and there was a confused uproar. The gentlemen with- out rushed in, to find the great Duke dying of a dozen wounds and surrounded by men wiping their bloody swords. A curtain was stealthily drawn aside, a timid voice asked, " Are you quite sure that he is 117 King or Knave dead?" and his Most Christian Majesty stepped cautiously into the room, fresh from his devo- tions. He stole near to his fallen foe, pushed him with his foot, and said, " How big he was ! Now he looks even larger than when living." A moment later this King burst into his mother's apartment, where she lay ill, with the exultant cry, " Congratulate me, Madame. I am King of France now. The King of Paris is dead." The grim old murderess did not tarry long. In a few days she followed her fellow-conspira- tor into the dark unknown. Henry, once roused, was not minded to do things half-way. Guise's brother, the Cardinal of Lorraine, was doomed. He raged in his prison and defied the King to do him any harm. In- deed there was trouble in finding men for the job. To murder there were few to object But to lay violent hands on the Lord's anointed was another matter. Still what cannot gold do? Ruffians were found for the deed, willing to take the peril of their souls' perdition ; and the haughty churchman, furious to the last, was done to death. Henry sent to the Pope a circumstantial account of the reasons impelling him to the " execution " of Guise, adding a naive post- script, that he had found himself under the necessity of " doing justice " upon the Cardinal of Lorraine also for speaking disrespectfully of himself. 118 PART II CHAPTER THE NINTH How Gaston d'Estre'es, coming to his sister as love's ad- vocate, does a fool's errand and helps to bind faster the magic spell. A YEAR had passed since the opening of this story, and again a trio were walking under the leafy trees of Cceuvres and enjoying the balmy air of a June day. Two were the baron and his daughter. The third was a young man whose features combined something of the haughty expression of the former with the delicate color- ing, blue eyes, and golden hair of Gabrielle. His appearance suggested an impulsive, ardent nature, not easily brooking restraint, nor wont to exercise it upon himself. He had just now come from the camp of the two kings and was full of enthusiastic hope for the royalist cause. He was at this moment dilating on the circumstances which had led to the union of the two monarchs and the great relief which it had brought to the King of France. " Parbleu ! his Majesty had no choice," he said. " You have heard, my father, how Paris 119 King or Knave raged against him, after the death of Guise, and how everywhere the League was growing. With a powerful army in the field against him, with many cities siding with the rebels, with the King of Spain pouring money into the treasury of the League, what could he do ? He must have help somewhere, and the only person who could give it was the King of Navarre. What think you, my father? Was he not right in joining forces with the Bearnais?" " Surely he was, my son," returned the baron. " For what crime can be compared with rebel- lion ? Let priests say what they may, a monarch may rightfully use any means whatever to put down treason. If there is sin in union with heretics, the guilt lies at the door of those who drove the King to such extremity. But tell me, pray, how the alliance was effected. Did the Bearnais not show any distrust of his brother-in- law? After the long strife between them, the bravest man might hesitate to put himself into the King's power." " Just so, my father. When it was rumored that there were secret negotiations with the King of Navarre, many said that he surely never would venture near his Majesty. Some thought that he would refuse to treat with him on any terms whatever, or that, at the least, he would insist on meeting him at some point between the two armies, each party with an equal guard. Noth- ing of the kind ! Almost before we dreamed of it, he was among us, with but a handful of 120 King or Knave gentlemen. I tell you, that Bearnais is a born hero ! He is a man to follow. Where others feel their way and dally on the brink of danger, he plunges in and with his strong arm buffets his way to victory. Since he has become our ally, I would to God that I might lead a regi- ment under his banner ! " The young man's color rose with his enthusi- astic speech. The elder nodded approvingly, and his kindling eye showed his sympathy with his son's ardor. So absorbed were they that neither noticed Gabrielle's excitement At her brother's praise of his hero, her cheek flushed, her eye brightened, and her step was proud and firm. In another moment a pallor overspread her face, and she caught her under-lip, as if in pain. Presently the father said, constraining himself to inculcate a virtue equally foreign to his nature and to his son's, " Only be patient, my boy, and in time you will have a regiment in the King's service." " In time, forsooth ! Yes, perchance, if I serve a hundred years," cried the young man bitterly, dashing to the ground with vehemence a flower he had plucked. " What chance have I, who am poor because my father lavished his wealth for his King, with the scented fops and panders and leeches who are his Majesty's con- fidants ? No ! I must be content to lead a handful of horse, while minions whose starveling fathers held the stirrups of my ancestors, bask 121 King or Knave in the sun of royal favor and ride at the head of a princely retinue." " God ! it makes my blood boil to think of the wrongs of our house," cried the old baron fiercely. " When my son should be at his prince's side, among his trusted companions, he must be a poor subaltern." Then, with an effort to practise the patience he counselled, he changed the subject and asked, " How fares Louis de Bellegarde? " " Ah, my faith ! no better than I. There is a fine fellow for you, brave as a lion, high-spirited, attentive to every duty of a soldier, a favorite with everybody. But, bah ! poverty blocks his road as fatally as mine." " Yes, that is it precisely," said the older man quickly and with emphasis. " Louis is a fine youth, but, alas ! he is like ourselves, poor." Gaston stole a glance at his sister and observed with pleasure her heightened color. At the same time the note of qualified disapproval in his father's words tempted him to push the latter on the subject of his feeling about Bellegarde. " I hoped, when Louis came here, some months since, that he would find a warm welcome and an invitation to spend several days with you. His early return surprised me. And so dejected as he was, poor fellow ! From my heart I pitied him." The young man glanced keenly at the face of each of his companions. Gabrielle's had become ashen ; her eyes were suffused, and her lip quiv- ered. His father's, on the contrary, was set. 122 King or Knave " Your friend was warmly welcomed," he said dryly ; " but what would you have, my son ? We are not in a condition for entertaining guests. It wounds me to make our poverty a spectacle to the world." " But, surely, my father, there is not any reason for treating Louis so formally. Our poverty is no secret to him. There is no truer friend of our family in all the world, and none who honors us in our adversity more highly." The baron shrugged his shoulders. " No doubt. Let us talk of something else." His manner was so decided, and his daugh- ter's distress so evident, that her brother believed he understood the situation perfectly. Later Gaston and his sister were left alone together for a few moments. He came to her side quickly, took her hand, kissed her tenderly and whispered, " Courage, little sister ! I see it all. But be brave; I am your friend always and Louis's. Better days will come for you both. Then our father will feel differently. Only be brave and hopeful." Then he kissed her again and slipped a letter into her hand. To his surprise, Gabrielle, far from responding to his encouraging words, shuddered, covered her face, and fled from the room. " What strange creatures women are ! " re- flected Gaston. " Who would have dreamed that my father's severity would affect her in that way? Why, she looked at Louis's letter as if 123 King or Knave she dreaded to touch it. How frightful that the poor girl has been so intimidated ! My father should be gentler, and should remember that once he was young and loved." That evening the conversation around the family board was not enlivening. The young man was constrained, feeling for his sister and resenting their father's hardness towards her and his friend. Gabrielle was pale and ab- sent, scarcely touching her food. On the plea of a headache, she excused herself early and retired. After she was gone, the two men sat late, talking drearily of the family affairs and of their various embarrassments. Meanwhile Gabrielle, in her room, held in her hand the letter which she had received from her brother. It was blurred with her tears. It ran thus: MADEMOISELLE : What words will tell with what a heavy heart I have lived since I last saw you? I went to Coeuvres full of high hopes. The memory of our childish friendship and of our later comradeship, so delightful, inspired joyful anticipations. Of Gaston's sympathy I was sure. And it was my purpose now it seems too audacious to be mentioned to request your father's consent to my asking your hand in marriage. Alas ! when we met, instantly a deathly chill struck my heart. What strange, icy influence had come between us? It was as if a wall, impalpable but im- penetrable, had been reared between me and the 124 King or Knave Gabrielle of my early, only love. I found you beauti- ful, oh ! how beautiful, but, alas ! how changed ! Can it be, Mademoiselle, that the maxims of worldly pride have steeled your heart, once so tender and unselfish, and that your Louis so you were wont to call me once is beneath the regard of one whose beauty would indeed grace a throne ? I will not believe it. I will hold fast the faith that your perfect form is the shrine and symbol of a soul as fair. Is it, perchance, Mademoiselle, that you distrust my love ? Let me swear to you that no other image than yours has ever found a moment's lodgment in my heart. I live my whole life in the thought of you. Each moment you are with me ; and to my last breath you will reign alone and supreme in my bosom. Sometimes the dreadful thought comes to me, that some other and worthier has gained the place in your affections which I have dreamed might be mine. Then hope whispers that this cannot be, since if it were, Gaston would know it. Oh, Gabrielle ! I implore you, by the bright memories of our past, by all the things that you cherish as most sacred, if you would not cast away from you a loyal heart that adores and ever will adore you, send me a word of cheer. Tell me that you have labored under some delusion, and that, like a dark cloud, it is gone by, and the sun again shines in the heavens of my life. At the least, bid me hope. Believe me ever, in joy or in sorrow, in hope or in despair alike, Your devoted servitor, Louis DE BELLEGARDE. "5 King or Knave Gabrielle sat long with this appeal before her. Once she rose and took a small package from an escritoire. It consisted of letters that had come to her within the preceding months, through Lisette's hands, how brought she never knew nor asked. Now she read them over. They were filled with a strange medley of amor- ous extravagances and a shrewd vein of cunning suggestion, in which future wealth and honors were made to figure freely. A divorce, with a new marriage in view, was repeatedly mentioned as part of the writer's plan. As she perused these singular compositions, the young girl's face hardened, her lip curled, and she ended by dashing them on the floor and stamping on them vehemently. Then she took up Bellegarde's letter once more and pressed it passionately to her lips, murmuring, " My Louis ! Yes, my Louis forever!" while tears fell fast upon the paper. The struggle was over she thought. With an air of decision and of intense relief, she drew forth writing materials and began a letter. After a while she paused and read what she had written. Apparently it did not satisfy her, for she destroyed it. She began again, with the same result, and a third time. Then she fell into a long fit of musing. After this she re- read Louis's letter, this time with a curiously dispassionate air. Another spell of indecision followed. Then she slowly gathered up the rejected effusions 126 King or Knave from the floor and perused them with close attention. After this she sat a long time with her hand supporting her brow, without move- ment or other sign of life than her breathing. All the while the hours were slipping by. If she had spoken, she would have said that she was weighing in the one balance her love for Bellegarde, in the other her duty to her father and her solicitude for the restoration of the family. Was she conscious of a subtle cur- rent of personal interest, giving weight to these considerations ; of enchanting visions of wealth and grandeur? Meanwhile it was growing late. Early in the morning her brother would start on his return to the army. If she would respond to Louis's appeal, it must be done now. But no line was yet written. The candles began to flicker in their sockets. Pale, and cold from her long vigil, Gabrielle crept to bed. Ah ! if mortals could but know the fateful hour in which the battle of a lifetime is fought ! How often they mistake for a skirmish the decisive encounter of their existence, and even after the field is fought and lost, go on idiotically serene, all unknowing that in every hour of all the years to come they will but act as fate's executors, carrying out with pitiless detail the broad decree which they have written against themselves in that book where there are no erasures ! In the morning Gaston augured ill for his 127 King or Knave mission from his sister's pale and rigid face. When he whispered to her, " Come, give me the letter quickly," she only shook her head and, with a quivering lip, turned away. His leave-taking of her was full of tender pity. From his father he parted with ill-concealed resentment. 128 CHAPTER THE TENTH How a lady -who has failed to fascinate a king fares with a monk. THE shadows of a July evening were settling upon Paris. The atmosphere was sultry, and an indescribable air of sullenness brooded over the city of Saint Genevieve. The patron saint seemed to the Parisians to have deserted her charge, so gloomy was its present outlook. Little more than a year had elapsed since the populace had been exalted to an almost frenzied joy by the triumph of the idol of all ultramon- tane France. Since then how swiftly had the hand moved on the dial, if events were reckoned ! From Guise, hero of the Barricades, extending patronizing clemency to the royal troops, while his sovereign stole away, to Guise dictating terms in the castle of Blois, was a natural step. The same logical process found its conclusion in the cabinet where, in the dull gray morning, Guise lay stabbed to death. Still inexorable fate did not stay its hand. Henry the Third, triumphing for a day in the destruction of his overweening subject, soon learned that he had unchained forces greater than he could master; that Guise dead was 9 129 King or Knave mightier than Guise living. The mask was thrown away. It was war to the knife between the King and the Catholic League. Then im- perious necessity drove him into the arms of Henry of Navarre. He, with the intuition of genius, trusted his brother-in-law, whom all the world with good reason distrusted, and joined hands with him. So it was that the only gainer by all these movements and counter-movements was that child of destiny, the astute Be*arnais, who found himself advanced from the position of an armed rebel to that of an ally of his King and the chief pillar of the throne. Now the two monarchs were besieging the city. What mutations of fortune had Henry of Navarre experienced since he last looked upon Paris ! He had fled from it, when his manhood revolted from a shameful captivity. Years he had spent in battling with adversity. He had made a name for himself in the world. In all the long struggle of the reformed faith he had won its only victory on a pitched field. Now the fugitive had come back, illustrious, admired by his friends and dreaded by his enemies. Who could withstand the onward march of this child of fortune, whom every turn of its wheel advanced to some more commanding position? As to the other Henry, things looked better for him than at any time since he galloped away by night from Cracow with the stolen 130 King or Knave crown-jewels of his kingdom of Poland, to mount the throne of France. The alliance with his redoubtable brother-in-law had made him strong enough, it seemed, to put his ene- mies under his feet. With him, besides, were all the loyal and moderate Catholics. Against him Guise's heavy brother, Mayenne, com- manded a much smaller army. No wonder that, on this evening, a gloomy and ominous silence brooded over the be- leaguered city. Its doom seemed to march upon it, inexorable. A few citizens abroad in the almost deserted streets passed one an- other with looks showing a common dread, or else conversed in undertones on the impending fate. At what hour might not the besieging army carry the walls by assault? Then what was to be expected from the King, who had sworn that he would re-enter Paris only through a breach? or from the Be"arnais, equally dam- nable in religion and politics, heir of a gen- eration of hate? Now through the darkening streets a monk glided with stealthy, cat-like tread. He turned into the Pre"-aux-Clercs and stopped before a house whose appearance indicated that it was occupied by a person of consideration. A low knock brought an attendant to the door. The visitor leaned forward and whispered a word. Immediately the door was thrown open. Following his guide, the monk ascended a wide flight of stairs to a reception-room of a King or Knave certain sombre splendor, dimly revealed by a light burning in a silver cresset. Against the wall hung weapons and pieces of armor, and a portiere showed a princely crest em- broidered in gold. The visitor threw back his head and surveyed his surroundings with the awe of a rustic. He was an uncouth, strangely repellent crea- ture. His face was flat, his nostrils coarse and broad, his lips thick and sensual, and his stubby hair, rusty-black, grew so low on his receding forehead as to give him a distinctly apish look, which was exaggerated by a ridge running all the way across in an unbroken arch and cov- ered by bushy eyebrows. From beneath this pent-house peered beady eyes, restless and fur- tive, with a strong suggestion of insanity. His squat figure was so gaunt that his frock hung about him in shapeless folds. His hands, huge and bony, were in almost incessant motion. Altogether he gave one a mingled impression of cunning and ferocity, of sensuality and su- perstition, a compound of ape and tiger, of goat and fanatic. In a few moments the portiere was drawn aside, and a woman entered. She was neither young nor beautiful. Yet there was about her something that piqued curiosity and marked her as a woman that might command men of a certain type, as surely as she would repel others. There was in her manner a suggestion of mingled ferocity and license. Savage and 132 King or Knave sensual, she was of the type of women who, with their lovers, sat in the Roman arena and turned down their thumbs, when the wounded gladiator sued for mercy. Too masculine to be loved, she was capable of playing balefully on weak men's passions. As a daughter of an illustrious house, as a sister of Guise, as one who had aspired to the companionship of the King and was high enough to resent her disappointment, pride was natural to Madame de Montpensier. On the other hand, the exigencies of political intrigue, into which she had thrown herself with the fervor of an ambitious and virile nature, had extin- guished the last remnant of conscience or of modesty, and had accustomed her to view her person as a battery charged with potential influence over the opposite sex, which it behooved her to use, as often as occasion served, for the ends which she had in view. The chief of these was the advancement of the Church; for she would have been an ex- ceptional product of the times, if she had not combined with the traits already sketched a consuming interest in religion. Of this the special object was the Holy Catholic League. This association made spiritual interests con- veniently concrete. Instead of offering misty abstractions, it enabled zealous persons, by working for certain visible ends, at once to secure their own salvation and to further the establishment of the kingdom of God on earth. King or Knave In following this congenial line, Madame de Montpensier had become an adept in playing upon those elements of the masculine nature which, touched by the fingers of gentle woman- hood, respond from the holiest depths of a man's being with the best that is in him, but, struck by the hot hands of passion, plunge him perchance into the abyss of damnation. She advanced and with one glance read her visitor, while the monk bowed low before the " Queen of the League." " And this is Brother Jacques, of whom I have heard so much good," she said in her softest tones, extending her hand to be kissed and throw- ing into this simple action a subtle challenge. The monk fell on his knees, took the white, jewelled fingers in his huge, bony hand, and pressed them to his thick lips with the fervor of a worshipper at a saint's shrine. Already he was wild. The touch of her drapery be- wildered, the delicate perfume of her person intoxicated him. The unwonted experience set his brain in a whirl. He could but murmur disjointedly, "Your Excellency too much honor die at your bidding." The keen-eyed lady recognized the symp- toms. Fearful of producing a too overwhelm- ing effect at once, she withdrew her hand and took a chair, saying, " Rise, Brother Jacques, and be seated." The monk obeyed. " Is it true, Brother Jacques, that God has inspired you for a great undertaking?" King or Knave " He has called me to serve Him with my life, your Excellency, if He will it so," replied the monk, who had regained some measure of composure, in the form of words which he had used so often of late that he uttered it almost automatically. " You speak, Brother Jacques, like a true son of holy Mother Church. Shame on those who have taken her vows and think to fulfil them in living at their ease, while God's vineyard is wasted by heretics and wild beasts ! If I were a man " then she broke off, as if she durst not give full utterance to her feeling. The monk greedily seized the bait. " God's work will not suffer for lack of a man to do it." "Ah! you are true and brave, Brother Jacques, and you will have your reward." Her look of admiration lifted the monk into an ecstasy. He seemed to soar above the nar- row bounds of all his former years. The piety of monastic discipline, with its fastings and ceaseless prayers, with its coarse garb and meagre fare and hard bed, was for poor shave- lings who knew no other road to Heaven. But he had been illuminated. As by a flash of revelation, he had seen Paradise opened on earth to those who do doughty deeds for God. A single wanton smile had fired his weak brain with visions of himself as a hero of the faith, loved by a princess. The lady noted the effect of her words and '35 King or Knave her glance in her visitor's wild eye. It was time to recall him to himself. " You have the watchword ? " " I have, your Excellency." " How will you gain an audience, Brother Jacques?" " By means of letters, your Excellency, from two of those traitors who are called Poli- tiques. I have led them to believe that I am charged with a secret negotiation for the sur- render of Paris. Thus I shall secure an in- terview." " How wise you are, Brother Jacques ! You have thought of everything." This with an- other of those thrilling glances that fired the crazy monk's brain. Again she recalled him to himself with a question, spoken low. " You have what is needful? " " It is here." He drew from the bosom of his frock and gave a glimpse of something black, with a meaning nod. He added, " It has been blessed, and special prayers will be offered at early mass that God will speed me." "As He surely will, Brother Jacques," said the other enthusiastically. " And now it is time for you to set out on your mission. God go with you ! " Without this reminder the monk would have sat on, forgetful of everything but the rapture of seeing and speaking to this heavenly creature. He rose to take his leave. Again the lady extended her hand to be 136 King or Knave kissed. The monk knelt over it and pressed it to his burning lips, while his brain swam. " Remember," she said, " Brother Jacques, when it is done, to come back to me. You serve God, and He will reward you. Still " here her voice trembled, and a thrill shot through her fingers, " come back to me" Brother Jacques went away intoxicated. A fever was in his blood. He trod on air. Visions of glory floated before him. He saw himself, as it were in a dream, exalted to the Church's highest honors; envied by the dull brethren doomed to drudge in the deadly tedium of the cloister; enjoying a rapturous felicity of high- placed love, such as only princes of the Church sometimes possessed. Ever and again the thrilling words rang through his brain, " Come back to me" He took his way toward the city-gate. It was closed, but at the whispered word, " Mendoza," the ponderous portal swung open for him, and he went forth into the night, on the road to Saint Cloud. CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH How Louis de Bellegarde, coming again to plead his love, unknowingly works the spell of the Fleur-de-lis and leaves Gabrielle entranced with the vision. AFTER the departure of Gaston from Cceuvres, the relations between father and daughter were by no means cordial. The baron felt that he had a grievance against Gabrielle. He had noticed the constraint of his son's manner at parting and had attributed it to the right source. And Gabrielle, as the indirect cause of this chill between himself and his only boy, fell quite naturally under his displeasure. At any rate, what was a girl's sentiment about a young man, that it should be taken into account, when graver matters were to be con- sidered ? And how preposterous that anything so tenuous and vague should intrude itself into the relations of those who alone have in their hands the guidance of the family destinies in such matters as the bestowal of a daughter's hand ! His rightful authority was traversed. And he resented it. On Gabrielle's side the feeling had grown that she was the patient victim of her father's austerity and of her devotion to her brother's '38 King or Knave interests. She never doubted that she had pain- fully denied her love expression, in refusing to send to Bellegarde the word of hope for which he begged. Self-pity had grown to be her constant mood, herself the most interesting object of contempla- tion. She nursed her woe by incessant brood- ing and, in the absence of a confidante, lived in an atmosphere of morbid self-communion. She persuaded herself that Louis was as dear to her as ever, but dear as part of a vanished dream. She thought of him with tender melan- choly. She murmured his name to herself with a sigh. She gazed fondly at the objects that were associated with him. At times she drew forth his letter, kissed it fervently, wet it with her tears, and carefully locked it away. The baron could not fail to observe his daughter's constrained manner and her pallor and pre-occupation. These indications con- vinced him of the correctness of his suspicion that she had a strong sentiment for Bellegarde, and he congratulated himself on his wisdom in early and firmly showing his hand in that matter. He was, therefore, the more strenuous and insistent in reiterating his favorite maxims for her guidance. Thus matters stood when, one day, Monsieur Louis de Bellegarde was announced. A thunder-bolt falling at their feet could scarcely have produced a more painful surprise. The baron frowned and bit his lip. How could King or Knave the young man venture to come thither ? Was it not made plain enough, at his last visit, on what ground he must be content to stand? He turned almost savagely upon her. She was in a state of pitiable agitation. But the sight of her emotion only exasperated him. Had she not brought this trouble upon herself? And by her silly indulgence of sentiment had she not put him in a most embarrassing position? But something must be done. The visitor was waiting. "Admit Monsieur de Bellegarde," he said testily to Gaspard, and then turned upon his daughter a look that was intended to be wither- ing. But she was laboring under a trouble so much deeper than the knowledge of her father's displeasure, that she was scarcely conscious of it. In a moment Bellegarde entered the room. He noted the coldness of the baron's greeting and his daughter's constraint. But for the former he was fully prepared, and the latter filled him with sweet hope. What lover would not have been encouraged by the sight of his lady's agitation? What meaning could it have but one? And how exquisitely beautiful she looked in her confusion, as the rich blood man- tled her cheeks to the roots of her golden hair and then, retreating, left them like alabaster ! The delightful augury which he drew from these symptoms, and the fact that he brought 140 King or Knave tidings which would not fail to soften the father's heart, inspired the young man with a hopefulness that could not easily be damped. In truth the situation bore quite naturally a most favorable interpretation. Louis's impres- sion that Gabrielle cared for him had been con- firmed, when Gaston returned from Coeuvres with his report. What though Gabrielle had made no response to his earnest appeal? Might it not well be that her silence cost her as much pain as it had inflicted upon him? So they fancied ; for the young men had quite grown into the habit of thinking of her as she was wont to think of herself, in the light of a patient victim of paternal austerity. So it was that Louis entered the room where sat the master of Cceuvres and his lovely daughter, with a heart full of hope. It was no wonder that there was in his bearing a certain irresistible friendliness. In spite of himself, at the first view of this honest young face, so frank and so trustful, the master of Cceuvres felt his icy reserve melting. Coming forward, the visitor saluted the occu- pants of the room with easy grace, lifting first the baron's, then Gabrielle's fingers to his lips, as he bowed low to each. Try as he might to steel himself in his attitude of selfish worldliness, there was still left enough of unspoiled human nature in the old nobleman's breast to be touched with a sort of pride and affection in looking upon this fine young fellow. 141 King or Knave As to Gabrielle, she experienced undeniably a thrill of joy in feeling her cold fingers pressed to his warm lips. How delightful was the mes- sage of love that flashed through that salute, formal to the outward eye ! The next moment a certain memory rushed across her, and she shuddered. " Monsieur le Baron," said Louis, " I do not come solely of my own volition, nor wholly for my individual pleasure, great as that also is. But I am the bearer of tidings so important that Gaston and I have thought we should not let you first learn them from strangers. He has given me the privilege of bringing you the first intelligence of an occurrence which seems to promise honor and advancement to him." He had struck the right note. At the words " honor and advancement " the baron's starved heart leaped as a war-horse's bounds at the sound of martial music. " Your coming, Monsieur de Bellegarde," he said with instant graciousness, " never needs an apology. You are always welcome here. But you are doubly welcome, if you bring news of my son's well-being. Be seated, I pray you." " Let me tell you first," said Bellegarde, " what concerns all France. King Henry the Third is dead." " What do you say, Monsieur? " exclaimed the baron, starting from his seat in amazement. But his emotion was slight, compared with his daughter's. Bellegarde, glancing at her, 142 King or Knave was surprised to see her ashen in color and apparently terrified. "Yes, he is dead, Monsieur le Baron," he said, " stabbed by an assassin of a monk, who pretended to have secret information for him, and so was admitted to a private interview." " Who is the real murderer, is the question," cried the baron vehemently. " The monk was but the dagger. Whose hand directed the blow?" " Ah ! That is a difficult question, Monsieur le Baron," replied Bellegarde, shrugging his shoulders. Then, lowering his voice, he added, " There is much talk of great personages in the secret counsels of the League. Some hint at a lady" "The Montpensier? " asked the baron ea- gerly. Bellegarde nodded. Then he said, "Unfor- tunately, somebody ran his sword through the murderer on the spot; and, the man being dead, there is not any way of ascertaining, as by putting him to the rack, who instigated the deed." All the while Gabrielle sat silent and as if frozen with terror. "Did his Majesty live long after receiving the blow ? " asked her father. " For several hours. At the first, it was be- lieved that he would recover. The King of Navarre was sent for and came immediately. The two talked together for some time, and his poor Majesty seemed quite cheerful. Then, King or Knave after several hours, a sudden change for the worse set in. He prepared for his end by receiving the blessed sacrament and earnestly commended the King of Navarre to his officers, as their rightful sovereign, and exhorted them to give him all due obedience and loyalty. Some who were present say that he added, ' You will never be King of France, my brother, until you become a Catholic again.' " " And that is true," exclaimed the elder man emphatically. " But, tell me, how was the ac- cession of the new king received ? " " Oh ! the excitement was at the first inde- scribable. It seemed as if there would be an outbreak against the new monarch, so bitterly some felt towards him. They had been willing to serve with him as the ally of a Catholic king. But when it became a question of acknowledg- ing him as their sovereign, many swore roundly that they never would give their allegiance to a heretic ; that only a Catholic can be King of France." "The idiots!" growled the baron. "To act as if they think the matter of a ruler's religion more important than his right to the throne ! But I interrupt you. Go on, I beg. You in- terest me deeply." " There is but little more to tell. A few were violent. Marshal d'fipernon was furious. He swore that he never would serve under a brig- and king, and led his whole force away to his government of Normandy." 144 King or Knave "Arrogant ape!" exclaimed the other an- grily. " Insolence is a family trait in that house. An ancestor of this upstart struck a pope in the face. But what said the most of the officers? " " A few followed fipernon's bad example and marched away. But from the beginning some declared that the question of religion was one for priests to quarrel over, and that God might be trusted to deal with a heretic; but as for themselves, the only question was that of the right to the throne, and that right the King of Navarre possessed." " Wise fellows they ! " cried the baron emphati- cally. " But I am impatient to hear what course you and Gaston followed." " Can you doubt, Monsieur le Baron? Hold- ing those principles which you and my honored father have ever instilled into us, we should have deemed it treachery to withhold our allegiance for a moment from our lawful sovereign, be his religious belief what it might. We were of those who without delay declared for the new king." " Thank God ! " fervently ejaculated the old nobleman. " I knew that my boy would not fail his master in the time of his need. And you have done well, Louis, in following the same principle. From my heart I congratulate you." Thereupon he seized the young man by both hands and wrung them. Louis, delighted at this unexpected demon- stration, glanced at Gabrielle, looking for a 10 I4S King or Knave responsive light in her eyes. What he saw was a face of stony hardness, while her thoughts seemed busy with some far-away object. He was recalled to himself by a question from his host. " Had you and Gaston an opportunity of avowing your allegiance to the King in person? " " Ah, yes, Monsieur ; it is that of which I am especially to speak, and that is the joyful part of my story." " True," said the baron ; " I have been so absorbed in the interest of your prelude, as to have forgotten that you bring some news of particular importance to Gaston's welfare. Go on, if you please." " I am especially charged to tell you, Mon- sieur, of the happy occasion of our presentation to his Majesty, King Henry the Fourth. Marshal de Biron being most active in confirming the new order, we petitioned him to bring us to our new master. He gladly presented us to the King with some kind words. Our fathers, he said, had faithfully served the crown, and we were come to declare to his Majesty our pur- pose to follow in their steps. "The King was pleased to receive us most graciously. My name chanced to be pronounced first. He took me by the hand in a very friendly way, saying, ' Monsieur de Bellegarde, I rejoice to welcome you into my service and assure you of my good-will.' " Next came Gaston's turn. No sooner was 146 King or Knave his name uttered than his Majesty asked eagerly, 'Monsieur d'Estrees, of the Picard regiment?' " ' The same, Sire.' " ' And son of the Baron of Cceuvres?' " ' I have that honor, Sire.' " ' Ah, then, Monsieur d'Estrees, let me greet you with all my heart. I have heard of you as a gallant and most deserving officer, worthy son of a brave sire. Be assured, your interest shall be my constant care.' Then he embraced him most graciously. " The compliment was so unexpected and so overwhelming, that Gaston scarcely knew which way to look. Indeed everybody was amazed, and some of the older officers scowled darkly at him, as we came out of the audience-chamber. But what cared we for their jealousy? With the King for his friend and patron, Gaston may overlook the envious feelings of those who fail to recognize his title to consideration. If they think, forsooth, that he lacks the claim of long service, they should remember, Monsieur, that he has a most indubitable title in your devotion to the crown and your sacrifices in its behalf." Was our ingenuous Bellegarde withal a bit of a diplomatist? At all events, his reference to the baron's services was most timely and effec- tive. It touched the old man's pride and further softened his heart. His eye kindled with joy. " This is, indeed, good news which you have brought us, Louis. At last the dark clouds seem to roll away and the sunshine of prosperity 147 King or Knave to visit our house. I am delighted that Gaston now serves a monarch who is capable of discern- ing his own merit and of recognizing in him the representative of ancient and strong claims. I rejoice equally with you in the more promising future before you." He turned to Gabrielle, expecting to see in her face a reflection of his own good humor and some evidence of pleasure at his kindly demeanor towards Louis. Instead, the look on her face filled him with astonishment. "What ails you, Gabrielle?" he asked half angrily. " Have you no interest in what touches our happiness so deeply?" " Oh, I am rejoiced, my father," she stam- mered ; " but this news of Gaston's of our good fortune is so sudden it overcomes me." He gave her a keen and resentful look. Here was fresh evidence of her perversity. When a right-minded girl would have been overflowing with happiness at her brother's success and the prospect of advancement for the family, she looked a picture of woe. And what more could she expect that he should say to Belle- garde? All along she had seemed to resent his coldness. Now, when he showed himself most pointedly courteous, she gave no sign of having noticed the change. What a wilful vixen ! When Gabrielle retired to her room that evening, she was in deep distress. Never had 148 King or Knave she so fully realized what it was to give up Bellegarde. Her early affection seemed re- vived in full force. Now that tidings had come of occurrences which swept her away further from him, he was dearer than ever. His image, as he had appeared a few moments ago, rose before her, as if to protest against the wrong she was doing him. How handsome he looked ! How distin- guished ! What manliness, what truth, what generosity in his clear eye ! What sincerity in his voice ! Ah, happy the woman who might call him hers ! But not for her this joy. No, not for her ! Already she felt as if she had thrown away from her the possibility of happi- ness, and committed herself to a course from which there was no turning back. She re- called the time in which she might have given her love to Louis, as a fallen angel might look back to its innocence. She burst into a storm of passionate weeping. She murmured, " Ah, Louis, my Louis, mine never to be ! Could you know the pangs I suffer in denying you the love for which your eyes plead so tenderly ! Could you read my heart, what would you find but your own image there?" She drew forth hrs letter, that cherished token of his devotion, and covered it with kisses. She inveighed against the cruel destiny which drove her to forego the only possible joy of her existence. 149 King or Knave But withal she never thought of turning back. To herself she said that she had no choice. She was driven, she fancied, by forces higher than self-interest and stronger than her will. There was a strange sense of a power impelling her towards a fixed goal. She found herself thinking of her secret suitor with a certain awe. How irresistibly he strode along the highway of destiny ! All things seemed to serve him. How strange that he was now her King! When he should kneel again before her, as he surely would, for the burning letters still came, she would have her sovereign at her feet. As she thought of him, she felt as if she were a hunted creature, about which the meshes of a great, invisible net were steadily closing. It was as if she were charmed, fascinated, paralyzed, seeing afar what no eye but hers could see, but equally powerless to escape or to resist. But why should she shrink from this future ? How many thousands of girls, handsome and well-born, would make any sacrifice to have the same goal in view ! Already this relation had begun to prove itself helpful to the family interests. Surely Gaston's gracious treatment at the hands of his new master was matter for rejoicing. This reflection gave a more cheerful turn to her thoughts. How little her father guessed to what source was really due that ray of royal favor which had brought gladness to his withered heart! She smiled a little com- placently in recalling his naive egotism in cred- 150 King or Knave iting it to his own services. Who could divine that she was the potential mistress of France ? She was easily carried on to an expansion of this theme. If, at this early stage, she was, without a spoken wish, so influential with her royal suitor, what limit could be set to her power, if she should accept the offered empire over his heart? Who did not know the story of those women, the real queens of France, who through a succession of kings had mightily influenced their country's destiny? Not only had they shone as ornaments of the court; not only had they set its fashions and given it tone ; not only had they dispensed the royal favor in matters social, according to their sweet will: they had stamped their impress upon public affairs. They had made and unmade ministers. Archbishops and cardinals had eagerly sought alliance with them in furthering the interests of the Church. The Emperor, visiting Francis, had politely ignored the Queen, his own sister, and paid assiduous court to the mistress. They had instigated wars, dictated treaties, proposed taxes, in short, made themselves felt without reserve or limit in every field of the national life. What a magnificent opportunity ! What a great work some of these historic women had done ! Who but Odette de Champdivers had cared for and comforted the poor, crazy king, while his profligate wife filled the land with her scandals? Who but beautiful Agnes Sorel King or Knave had roused Charles the Seventh from his indo- lent pleasures and stirred him up to deeds of valor, so that she was gratefully remembered, along with the Maid of Orleans, as one of the deliverers of France from English rule? What lustre had the Duchess d'Etampes shed upon the court, when she reigned as its star, and made it the most brilliant assemblage of Europe ! Where in all romance could be found a more touching story than that of Henry's lifelong devotion to his stately Diana? And if a woman twenty-two years his senior and fast slipping into old age could hold a man's heart to the day of his death, why might not she, in the prime of her girlhood and of her regal beauty, establish an empire over her lover which should last as long as life itself all of queenship indeed except the name, but better, inasmuch as, by all reports, the queen gen- erally secures the title without her consort's heart and has only the cold privilege of sharing his throne, whereas the mistress, without the burdensome title, has her lover's heart and all the power that goes with it? Still the glamour of the royal favorite's position did not blind her to its uncertainties. Well as it might serve her temporarily, she looked beyond it to the secure state of a wife. Might it not be that Providence designed her to found a new dynasty, to be the mother of a line of Bourbon kings? A divorce would readily open the road to the throne. And had not her suitor himself 152 King or Knave urged his willingness to secure one ? Of divorces in general she had no favorable opinion. The example of the English Henry had created a prejudice in her mind against them. She was too good a Catholic to approve of a king's imperilling his soul and making of his subjects an heretical sect, in order to get rid of an old or an ugly wife. But this was a quite different case. Marguerite's dissoluteness justified a divorce. She would insist on it. The throne was her ulti- mate goal. Nothing less would content her. There were difficulties, she knew. The Pope might prove obdurate. There might be years of delay. During these she must be content to occupy the more brilliant, because more du- bious, position. Before she should rule as a queen, she must reign as a favorite. She must join the long succession of famous mistresses whose names were household words. Poets had sung them. Their faces looked out from many a glorious canvas. Their fair forms were immor- talized in many a noble sculpture. More than one Madonna, gazing down, divinely beautiful, from wall of church or chapel, owed her creator's inspiration to one of these famous mortals. Of one of them the initials, entwined with those of royalty, graced many a lordly palace. Indeed, it was a fair question, whether the position had not acquired by custom an official character as an established institution. Had not high ecclesiastics given it tacit recognition by their open friendship ? At all events, what- 153 King or Knave ever rigid theologians and sour Calvinists might say, usage had long since determined on what high ground the institution stood. And by that judgment she would be content to abide. Debating with herself these high questions, Gabrielle had quite forgotten her passionate grief of an hour ago and had attained a calm, even cheerful frame of mind. So it was that, by a singular re-action of feel- ing, on this evening when Louis was under the same roof with herself, and when she had seemed to feel most keenly the bitterness of separation from him, she first definitely faced the thought of forming a union with his rival. Now she began to prepare herself for sleep. Full of the ideas that had become uppermost in her mind, she advanced to her mirror and, with a candle in either hand, took a critical survey of her face. She scrutinized each feature in turn. She looked at herself reflected in full-face and in half-profile. She assumed various expressions, of sadness, of mirth, of profound thought, of quick intelligence, of lofty scorn, of demure meekness. She held a candle near and investi- gated the transparency of her delicate ear- lobes. She examined closely her teeth of daz- zling whiteness. She closed her lips and inspected critically their curve, their ruby color, their delicate voluptuousness. She half-closed her eyes and surveyed the long fringes of the lashes. She opened them wide and peered into King or Knave their depths. She followed with careful study the graceful arch of her brows. She held the candles aloft and let their light fall full on the golden mass of her silky hair. Apparently the result of this inspection was satisfactory, for at its close she contemplated herself with smiling complacency. Then a mad whim seized her. She laid by one garment after another. She let down her long, shining tresses. Now she took her stand again before the mirror and surveyed the whole beauteous reflection with the same minute exact- ness as before. No emissary of shah or sultan buying beauty for his exacting master could have been more critical than this girl appraising her maiden charms. What visions floated before her ! She knew Primaticio's frescoes which endlessly reproduce the features of the Duchess d'fitampes. She had seen Benvenuto Cellini's nude Diana clasp- ing her royal lover represented as an enam- ored stag. What painter, what sculptor would worthily perpetuate a greater beauty than theirs for admiring posterity? At last, with a triumphant smile and toss of the head, she seemed to say to herself that all was well with her, and so dowered she need fear nothing of womankind. Now she put on her night-robe and, kneeling at her dainty prie-dieu, said her prayers with the careful exactness which was her pious wont. '55 King or Knave Then she crept into bed, rosy and happy, full of bright visions, and soon was lost in the dream- less sleep of youth and innocence. The next morning Bellegarde was puzzled beyond measure by Gabrielle's demeanor. She studiously avoided his eye. She assumed a careless manner, in strong contrast with her evi- dent distress on the previous day. She seemed determined to say as plainly as she could with- out words, that he was nothing to her. Once, when he caught her eye for an instant, her glance seemed almost mocking in its levity. On the other hand, she displayed an unex- pected interest in the conversation. It turned chiefly on the condition of public affairs and the prospects of the King. Bellegarde did not make light of the difficulties in the latter's way. He would have a hard and, it might be, a long road to travel, ere he could obtain full recognition and win Paris and his throne. Already the melting away of his army had compelled him to relinquish the siege of the insurgent city, and the bigoted opposition of the League would render his task herculean. But his final triumph he never doubted. To all this Gabrielle listened with eager inter- est. Her suitor, happy in having found a topic which engaged her attention, talked with fluency and animation. The subject was one on which he was easily eloquent, for he was discoursing of the most romantic figure of the age, the idol of adventurous spirits, knight-errant and king in 156 King or Knave one. And it put him on his mettle to have for hearers the baron, whose good-will he was so anxious to conciliate, and his beautiful daughter, following the conversation with marked, even wistful, interest. Once, at the end of a burst of enthusiasm, he chanced to turn suddenly to Gabrielle. She had been listening with rapt intensity. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks were flushed. Her delicate nostrils quivered. In her eye was a strange sparkle, as of exultation. The instant that it met his glance, it fell, and she resumed her meal with something like confusion. Poor Louis ! In the flash when their eyes met, and he noted her animation, his heart leaped with the thought that at last he had touched the deep spring of her emotions and found the meeting-ground of their natures. The next instant her quick avoidance of his glance threw him back upon himself, perplexed and amazed. What meant this sudden flaming up of excite- ment which shrank in embarrassment from his eye? The circumstance brought home to him what every recent experience plainly taught, that the Gabrielle of to-day was quite other than the frank companion of former years. Alas ! it was his subject, not himself, that had called forth the emotion he had witnessed. It must be that in Gabrielle there was some deep vein of excitability, hitherto unsuspected by him, of hero-worship, it might be. Oh ! that he might strike it ! How happy would he be, King or Knave if he might touch that hidden chord of her nature which a moment ago had given so quick and beautiful response ; and if himself, not his talk, should call that light to her eye, that flush to her cheek ! To let himself down from the animated strain in which he had been talking, Bellegarde asked the baron a commonplace question. " Have you ever chanced, Monsieur le Baron, to meet his Majesty?" " Yes," replied the other, with a manner that implied some not very agreeable reminiscence ; " I knew him, when he was but a youth, just after his marriage. Besides, he came here once, a year or two ago." He added dryly, " I did not encourage him to come again." Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he said quickly, " But, of course, things are quite differ- ent now." A strange shadow rested on Gabrielle's face. Was it annoyance at this slighting allusion to her hero? Now the hour had come for Louis's departure. On no decent pretext could he prolong his stay. How it would have gladdened his heart, to see in the object of his love the same beautiful and touching distress that he had witnessed yester- day ! But how strangely was everything changed within a few hours ! This new manner, this studied indifference, passed his comprehension. She continued obdurate. As he, poor fellow, took his leave, heavy-hearted, not a word or 158 King or Knave look did she give him of more than common courtesy. This circumstance her father noted with equal surprise and annoyance. What a perverse and wilful creature she was ! And how thoroughly womanlike! So long as he had shown himself cold towards young Louis, she had sulked. No sooner did he relax, than she whipped around and treated the boy coolly. He was piqued, and from that time forth he was almost Louis's ally. CHAPTER THE TWELFTH H oiv Jean Fourcade receives a startling commission. WE parted with Jean Fourcade as he was bringing home to his master the joyful tidings of the Armada's destruction. His excursion into England and his thrilling experiences as a volunteer under Sir Francis Drake had justified Henry's hopes by being of great benefit in diverting his thoughts and relieving the intense strain of constant brooding on his great sorrow. One day a stranger was closeted with Henry for some time. After his departure he called Fourcade to him. He seemed disturbed. " Jean," he said, " I think of sending you on a secret service. You acquitted yourself so hand- somely of your errand to England that I am dis- posed to give you another commission, one that will require even more circumspection. What say you to taking a journey into Auvergne?" Fourcade started violently. Auvergne was associated with his sweetest and saddest memo- ries. It was in the mountains of Auvergne that Sophie and he had passed that ever-memorable night ! " Ventre-saint-gris ! What is there so terrible in Auvergne that you seem not less affrighted 1 60 King or Knave than if I had talked of sending you to the Cham of Tartary ? The matter is simple enough, but it needs a man whom I can trust absolutely, a dis- creet man who will keep his eyes wide open and his mouth shut, not in my interest only, but in his own as well, for let him wag his tongue too freely, and he will soon cease to wag it at all. The place, as I have just now learned, is a nest of Leaguers. You must know, first, that your former queen, my wife, is there." This he said with a grimace. Fourcade made a gesture of astonishment. " When I last heard of the Queen of Navarre, Sire, she was in her own territory at Agen." " Oh ! that is ancient history. She might, however, have ruled there in peace to her death, had she not by exorbitant impositions driven the citizens to rise against her. She took flight, escaping on horseback behind one Lignerac, who took her to the castle of Carlat. But the Governor of Auvergne, the Marquis de Canillac, thought he would have a rich prize, if he had her in his keeping. So what does he but he swoops down upon Carlat and carries her off a prisoner to his own castle of Usson? Now, pardieu ! comes the joke. What does Margot but she turns her full battery upon Canillac and captivates him? Meanwhile she secretly com- municates with Guise, who, on a given day, sends her a detachment from Orleans. Then, while Canillac is asleep, she admits the soldiers and seizes the castle. Canillac awakes to find ii 161 King or Knave the original situation reversed. It is he who is prisoner, in his own castle. What say you to that?" Fourcade shrugged his shoulders and smiled. " This feminine coup d'etat," continued Henry, " took place some year and a half ago. I have not concerned myself about it, but have been well content to let her rule her little principality of Usson, with Canillac for major-domo, provided she would leave my affairs alone. But I have just now received tidings which make me suspect mischief brewing in that quarter, an uprising, it may be, in the interest of the League. She is quite capable of it. Since I have wholly severed myself from her, it would gratify her vanity to be the guiding spirit of some movement to further the cause of the Holy Union. She has a genius for petty intrigue, for government, she fancies, by virtue of her Valois blood. According to report, suspicious persons are assembling at Usson. I must have an observer on the spot, one who will ascertain and inform me of the real facts." " Like mistress, like maid, Sire. What can you tell me of Mademoiselle de Rebours?" "Oh! that creature, par exemple? Well, thank God, she has disappeared. For a time after her mistress was taken to Carlat, she flitted back and forth, still hoping, it seemed, to regain her old place with me. But, pardieu ! I would as willingly take the Black Death for a chere amie. During that time you met her at Mon- 162 King or Knave tauban, on the night that proved so disastrous to you. Did you dream who was expected, when you arrived? I will tell you. When the bugles were sounding to mount for the march, and my foot was in the stirrup, a perfumed billet, of inviting phraseology, was handed to me, un- signed, but I knew from whom it came, for it had been whispered to me that she was there- about. It was her last desperate throw. When you knocked at the inn, at midnight, and she opened the door, had I stood before her, she would have been the happiest woman in France. No wonder that she played you that devilish trick, to vent her spite." Fourcade's brow lowered, as his mind re- verted to that dark time. How persistently Fate seemed to make him a scapegoat for his master ! "And then, Sire?" he asked simply. " There is little more to tell. After that last failure she seemed to abandon all hope. For a time she hung about, for no other purpose, apparently, than that of enjoying the specta- cle of your misery. Then, shortly after I had sent you away to your home, she went to the Grand Chamberlain and asked leave, which, God knows, was gladly enough given, to with- draw from the court and live in retirement with an aunt, somewhere in Brittany, I believe. That ends her story, and God grant we may never see her more ! " " So say not I, Sire." 163 King or Knave " How? What mean you ? That she-devil ! " " True. But remember, Sire, that fiend car- ries the key of my happiness and honor in her bosom. She alone of all living beings can clear me from shame and restore my wife to me. And, God help me ! while she walks the earth, I shall never rest till she avows her crime and undoes its consequences. To accomplish that end I devote my life." " Amen, say I. But how, my boy? I would not discourage you. But you have already tried every resource. Every appeal to her has proved vain. There is in her neither justice to respond to reason, nor mercy to be moved by your misery. Indeed, I doubt not that, in gloating over your wretchedness, she feels that she is taking revenge on me." "Do you know nothing more certain, Sire, of her whereabouts than what you have men- tioned?" " Only as I have told you. But hold ! I shall write to the Grand Chamberlain and inquire of him. It may be that he knows definitely whither she went. And I shall let you know at the earliest possible day." There was some further talk between them as to the details of Fourcade's mission. The next day he took the road for Usson. 164 CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH How Jean Fourcade finds a mortal enemy whose presence is more precious than the dearest friend 's. FOURCADE found at Usson a secluded strong- hold dominating the surrounding country, a fit abode for the robber-lords who, from generation to generation, had there exercised despotic sway over an abject peasantry. The top of a considerable hill, of the conical shape so common in that once volcanic region, was occupied by the castle, while up its steep sides straggled the houses of the village, all striving, as it seemed, to climb as close as possible under the shelter of the frowning bat- tlements. Outside the walls the only building of any note was a somewhat striking church, Romanesque in style, perched on a small pla- teau and overlooking the red-tiled roofs of the burghers. At the foot of the hill there brawled over a stony bed a swift brook, spanned by a bridge of a single arch. Beyond it lay a nar- row meadow, bordered by a dense wood cloth- ing a gentle slope. Wearing a disguise similar to that which he wore when, with Hugue"nin, he pursued the abductors of Sophie, Fourcade had no fear of being recognized by his former mistress or any 165 King or Knave of her retinue, should he chance to encounter them. He was soon established in a room of the village-inn overlooking the straggling road which led up to the castle-gate. The landlord, overjoyed to welcome a guest who announced that his stay might be of considerable length, was not inclined to be inquisitive and was satis- fied with being told that the new-comer was a merchant of Orleans who had affairs with a gentleman of that region. After a leisurely stroll through the village, Fourcade began a discreet inquiry into the habits of the castle-folk. When he approached the subject, the land- lord closed his mouth significantly and shook his head. Words could not have said more plainly, " They are a bad lot. But you won't hear me say a word about them." With good reason he stood in awe of these powerful neigh- bors. Policy, too, dictated silence, for the sol- diers and the lower sort of the castle-folk were wont to hold many a carouse under his roof. True, they drank more than they paid for, and they scandalized his family by their boisterous oaths and brawling and their ribald songs. But what would you have? A man must lie in his bed as he finds it. On the second day after his arrival, Fourcade saw a gay cavalcade come trooping down the hill from the castle. At the side of Marguerite rode the enslaved Canillac. Behind her was a person the sight of whom gripped his heart. 166 King or Knave There, in all the insolence of her wanton beauty, rode Mademoiselle de Rebours ! Time had dealt lightly with her, and none who knew not her story, seeing the fair, smooth face, the bright eyes, the mouth curved disdainfully, the mass of shining hair, the supple figure, royally habited and sitting her horse with the easy grace of a skilled rider, would have guessed the years of infamy that lay behind her. At her side rode a gallant of extremely youth- ful appearance, his boyish face adorned with a nascent mustache, which his hand frequently caressed. The adoring looks and passionate utterances of this young admirer were generously repaid with bewitching glances which seemed to fill him with ecstasy. The boy betrayed in all his mien the bliss of the happy lover. With clatter of horses' hoofs and merry laughter the gay castle-folk swept by, leaving Fourcade gasping and white. By what inex- plicable turn of Fortune's wheel had he thus unexpectedly been brought face to face with this woman who held his fate in her hand ? Was it a sign that Providence, so long pitiless in its dealings, was at last opening the way to make amends for the past? When he recovered from the first surprise of his discovery, Mademoiselle de Rebours's pres- ence there seemed to him most natural. To a woman of her disposition and habits any other life than that of a court would be tame and spiritless. And where could she find occupa- 167 King or Knave tion so congenial as that of attendance on the mistress who had moulded her? Above all, if Usson had become a centre of political intrigue, what alliance was more fitting than that of the disgraced wife and the discarded favorite against the man who, in their estimation, had wronged both? But who was this enamored cavalier, whose boyish face put him in so marked contrast with the blas6 habituds of Marguerite's petty court? Fourcade set himself to find out by cautious inquiry. Jests and anecdotes which had filtered down through the castle-servants to the villagers, told the tale. Alcide de TreVille was a new-comer at Usson. Born of an old Picard family, he had been reared in great retirement on the paternal estate, chiefly in the company of staid aunts and demure sisters. To him the world was a great terra incognita, into which he made his first sally, when he bade adieu to his tutor and rode forth to make a visit to his maternal uncle, the Marquis de Canillac, the great man of the family, known in the remote Picard manor- house only as the illustrious Governor of Auvergne, and by no means as the ignominious bondman of his alleged prisoner. Into this atmosphere, reeking with shameful chicanery and brazen intrigue, the poor boy brought a vast fund of innocence, along with warm blood in his veins, for he came of a race of lovers, and an eager desire to taste the cup of 1 68 King or Knave life's pleasures. Nothing could have been more exhilarating than the exchange of his tutor and books by day, with formal rides and an occa- sional well-regulated hare-hunt, and in the even- ing a game of dominoes with Louise or Julie, for the delightful jollity of the life at Usson. Was there ever so gracious and affable a lady as the Queen of Navarre ? Where in all the world could one find so charming and delightful people as the group of noble gentlemen and ladies surrounding her, all living together like one family, amid constant sallies of wit and mirth, wine and song, the merry dance and cards filling all the hours of waking? But Mademoiselle de Rebours ! What words could he find to do justice to her glorious image? What mysterious depths of his being were thrilled by the lingering glances of those bright eyes, bent on him so softly ! Surely, never had dawned on poet's dream a creature so radiant with youth and beauty and goodness, so frank, so kind. No sooner had this young innocent made his appearance at Usson than he became the centre of a deep interest of which he little dreamed. To Angelique de Rebours what an opportunity presented itself of rehabilitating her tarnished name by a marriage with a handsome and well- born youth, and rebuilding her wrecked fortunes on the secure foundation of holy matrimony ! She set herself at once to fascinating him. Alas ! she knew but too well how to counterfeit 169 King or Knave a girlish innocence which she believed herself to despise, but whose possessors she deeply envied. Who will say that even in that heart, seared by passion and corrupted by intrigue, there was not some longing for a wholesomer, sweeter life, and that it did not yearn towards that unsuspecting boy, as the only being who might restore her to a true womanhood, of which she had only faint glimpses, indistinct among the darker memories of her later years, even as, men say, Breton fishermen in fine weather dimly descry, beneath the heaving waters of the Channel, the towers of a long-forgotten city? With her maid of honor's unique love-affair Marguerite's sympathy leaped in ready re- sponse. To see her dear Ange"lique hand- somely established in marriage was an object which commended itself to her as altogether worthy. There was none to thwart the devilish scheme. Canillac, himself sold into slavery, durst not interfere in his nephew's behalf. As for the rest, it seemed to them an incomparable joke, and they would not for worlds disturb the progress of the idyllic love-affair, in which their cherished companion acted the ingenue with so charming taste. From Marguerite's select circle of lost women and infamous men the actress received ample encouragement in sly winks, nods and smiles. The progress of this affair, of a kind so novel at Usson, became the absorbing topic of its inmates. Jests and innuendoes 170 King or Knave flowed in a constant stream. Bets were freely offered and taken as to the length of time which would be needed to bring the comedy to the final scene of priestly benediction. Even var- lets and scullions watched the game with glee, and lady's maids made wagers with their beaux on the result. In hall and kitchen and guard- room the castle's comedy was the common talk. The one person who might have given young Treville a hint of this state of affairs, his Picard servant, was bound to silence, having early sur- rendered to the fascinations of a lady's maid opportunely detailed for that work by Mar- guerite. She, like a prudent general, left no point unguarded, and in this labor of love was aided by her experience in former years, when she helped to sway the fortunes of the realm by the timely use of subservient beauty. The woman who had instigated the Lovers' War found no difficulty in dealing with a valet. This spectacle of a whole community leagued in a conspiracy to mate an unsuspecting boy with a woman of infamous career made Four- cade's blood boil, and he vowed to himself that he would thwart the scheme, at whatever cost. He had now a double end to work for, and all his energies were roused to activity. What was this boy to him? he asked himself. Nothing. Yet there was in him that which would not let him stand by idle and see this thing done. Alone of all those who were outside of the con- 171 King or Knave spiracy he possessed the knowledge which could defeat it. Not to use that knowledge would be not less cowardly than if a strong swimmer, standing on a river-bank among people unable to swim, should see a child drown helplessly, while he should make no effort to save it. How much this real and righteous indignation of Fourcade was mingled with the desire to blast the schemes of the woman who had stabbed his wife's trusting heart and wrecked his happiness, let us not too closely inquire. He was human, and with that word all is said. By one and the same stroke to save this infatuated youth from ruin and to compel the destroyer of his own home to confess her guilt and furnish him with proofs of it, this was the problem which confronted him. How was it to be solved? 172 CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH ffotv, Gabrielle walking in the wood and dreaming of the Fleur-de-lis, it suddenly appears and affrights her. IN the frame of mind which she had reached Gabrielle found great peace. Any rising com- punctions on the score of Louis she silenced by recurring to the notions of self-sacrifice and of a force external to herself. Again and again she said to herself that she had no choice, that her destiny was sweeping her to a fixed goal which she now habitually recognized in her thought. The various steps in her suitor's mar- vellous rise, the fact of her brother's having become dependent on him for employment and advancement, and the promise of favor already made to him, all seemed to make it clear that Providence designed her as the instrument of the family's restoration. She rarely now thought of Bellegarde. She had done, she said, with sentiment ; it was folly for a girl situated as she was to listen to the promptings of a fond heart She had a career to fulfil, and she must not swerve from it. What now occupied her mind were not empty regrets of the past, but rosy visions of the future. Before the eye of her imagination continually King or Knave floated scenes in which she figured as the recognized companion of the King and repeated in her own person the experiences of the famous beauties whose story had so powerfully impressed her fancy. She saw herself the centre of brilliant pageants, while royalty bowed over her and paid homage to her charms. Imagina- tion pictured her surrounded by obsequious courtiers, by cringing place-seekers fawning for her favor, by ambassadors eager for her smiles, by great churchmen zealous for her alliance in promoting the interests of the heavenly king- dom. Proud women, secretly envious, paid obeisance to her supremacy in love and in the arts by which men are swayed and the fortunes of kingdoms are moulded. And withal, living in this dream-land, she fancied herself intensely practical, forever done with sentiment and wedded for all time to the most prosaic view of life. One morning she sauntered in the forest. Lisette had suggested a walk, and in her dreamy mood she had very willingly fallen in with the proposal. As she sauntered idly beneath the trees, in the soft languor of the summer air, the very atmosphere seemed full of suggestions of self-abandonment to voluptuous ease. Her blood even, infected, as it seemed, with nature's naive unmorality, carried to the brain impulses to the freedom of the savage. What gave particular form to her meditations on this morning was a letter lately received. 174 King or Knave Plainly it had been written since the late won- derful change in the writer's position and pros- pects. But it was no less ardent than its predecessors. Evidently good fortune had abated nothing of his passion, if it had not fed it with fresh fuel. Coming at such a juncture, this letter had made a deep impression on her. She had even seriously debated with herself answering it. Her difficulty lay in so replying as not to betray too much interest. That would be bad policy. On the other hand, she was loth to run the risk of discouraging the writer by an appearance of too great indifference. He men- tioned the possibility of seeing her ere long. If he should come, how should she bear her- self towards him? How should she hold the balance even between too great encouragement and seeming apathy? How should a well-born girl bear herself towards her sovereign sighing at her feet? Now she was amid the very scenes associated with him. Under these trees, through these glades, they had strolled together, a little more than a year ago. How naturally they recalled his ardent words and the indubitable fascina- tion of his presence ! His voice, so musical in love-making, almost seemed to be wafted by her in the languorous movement of the summer air. At a sudden turn in the path, Henry the Fourth stood before her. King or Knave She started violently, and the blood rushed to her temples. Lisette screamed and seemed on the point of fainting. What in some degree restored Gabrielle's equilibrium was, that she instinctively noticed Henry's unchanged appearance. The King of France assumed no more of state in dress or manner than the picturesque Bearnais. " Pardon me this intrusion, Mademoiselle," he said, bowing low. " There was no other way in which I could secure an interview with you, and my heart," laying his hand over that organ and again bowing low, "would not let me remain longer away from you." "Your coming is indeed unexpected, Mon- sieur, pardon me, your Majesty," stam- mered Gabrielle. The sudden appearance of the man who had become a so important figure in her thoughts affected her strangely. There was something of the effect of magic about it. Henry quickly detected her embarrassment and drew from it a favorable augury. Where were the caustic jest, the half-contemptuous manner of their first meeting? The confusion which he witnessed clearly was the result of self- consciousness. And what progress it marked from the girl laughing at him and making sport of his proposals ! He very well understood that this embarrassment would never have been produced by his sudden appearance, if he had not reached the point of filling a large place in her thoughts. Be the cause what it might, 176 King or Knave something had wrought an alteration in her quite as great as that of his fortunes. And he shrewdly connected the two facts in the way of cause and effect. "But though unexpected, not unwelcome, let me hope, beautiful Gabrielle," said he in reply to her first words, with a sparkle in his eye, and passing quickly from his first deferen- tial manner to the easy self-confidence of one who is secure of his game. " That will be as it may prove, your Majesty," said Gabrielle demurely, trying to rally her courage and treat him with composure. But her old audacity had deserted her, and she was pitiably at sea. The other was amused at her discomfiture. " Ah ! a thousand thanks, ma belle, for the implied permission to make myself agreeable," he replied. And he forthwith set himself to do as he said, with such bonhommie that Gabrielle soon found herself gliding easily into conver- sation. When Henry had accomplished so much, he said, " Your maid might remain at a little dis- tance, might she not, Mademoiselle? I crave the privilege of talking with you alone." "Lisette, go and sit on yonder fallen tree," commanded her young mistress. The conversation now flowed freely, and Gabrielle was drawn on to talk quite at her ease. She certainly was conscious of a growing liking for him. What a charm there was in that 12 I77 King or Knave subtle quality which made him irresistible, when he set himself seriously to winning ! She found herself looking into his face and listening to the free flow of his talk, as merry jest and shrewd remark followed one another in quick succession, absolutely free from embarrassment and with a keen sense of enjoyment. In short, Gabrielle was coming under the spell, if not of love, certainly of a strong liking. So much had her feeling towards him grown warmer that she felt real pleasure in taking ad- vantage of a pause to say, " Let me thank you, Sire, for your great kindness to my brother and your generous assurance of continued favor. His well-being lies very close to my heart ; and whoever does him a kindness has the strongest claim on my gratitude." In the course of the conversation Bellegarde was mentioned as the messenger who had brought the tidings of the late King's death and the accession of the first of the Bourbons. At the mention of this name Henry looked at her keenly and asked, " Is he a friend of yours, this young Monsieur de Bellegarde?" "We have been friends since childhood, Sire, and he is still my brother's dearest comrade," she replied evasively and with a vain attempt to look indifferent. " My faith ! that is an ideal friendship which gives the privilege of visiting the home of the cherished comrade during his absence," said Henry laughing. Then he added with keen, 178 King or Knave but good-humored scrutiny of her face, " Ap- parently Monsieur de Bellegarde's affectionate interest includes all the members of the family." Gabrielle blushed under the search of those penetrating eyes, but said nothing. Then, with a little effort, she tossed her head, as if to inti- mate that the person under discussion was noth- ing to her. Henry noted the movement, as he had already noted her self-consciousness, and drew his own conclusion, which was not far from the truth. Before they parted, it was arranged that they should meet on the next day. He had given Gabrielle to understand that he was incognito at his alleged old stopping place, Eauxvertes. It is scarcely necessary to remark that this state- ment was a bit of pure fiction. The fact was, that the King of France was lodged in his old room in the ruined wing of the chateau. On the day preceding his arrival a mysterious pedler had appeared at the kitchen door. At an opportune moment he had whispered to Diana that " a former guest of the Countess Anne would come again, to ask her hospitality, and would be found, on the following evening, at the old trysting-place." Great was the excitement of the two women, when Diana repeated this message to Lisette. There were mysterious whisperings and much secret bustling back and forth, as they made the necessary preparations for entertaining their guest. 179 King or Knave On the next evening the two confederates slipped out to the glade where, on the former occasion, they had met their guest. They ap- proached the spot somewhat nervously. Now that he was King, how would he treat them? What was the proper salutation for their sov- ereign ? As they neared the glade, they descried a figure stretched at full length at the foot of a tree. Their questionings were immediately set at rest, for their visitor instantly sprang to his feet and grasped each of them by the hand with genuine cordiality. " Ah, mes belles ! How glad I am to see you ! And how charming you look ! " In a few minutes the two women were quite at their ease and chatting with their sovereign in the same familiar way as when they were entertaining the genial B^arnais. They found him quite unchanged by royal honors, the same easy, good fellow who had at first won their hearts. The time seemed all too short; for they durst not tarry long, lest their absence should be remarked. Soon Henry found himself cosily lodged in the old room, so full of pleasant memories con- trasting with its gloomy appearance. He felt quite at home there. Nor were the fair host- esses wanting in any attention which might add to their guest's well-being. As loyal subjects, they felt that nothing could be too good for him. Besides, as a royal good fellow, an un- 180 King or Knave surpassed story-teller, and at heart a man of the people, he had commanding claims to all that they could possibly do. The best of food and drink that the larder and the cellar of the chateau could afford were laid before him. Messieurs Barbezoux and Gaspard would have raged, could they have witnessed the devotion of their ladies to the guest of honor ; and it is doubtful whether even the baron, stout royalist as he was, would have approved of the lavish display of his best viands and his choicest wines, surreptitiously obtained, which the women made for the honor of the family. In the course of the evening Lisette slipped into the room, carrying a bundle in her left arm. " I have something to show to your Majesty," she said. Therewith she whisked away a light covering and displayed the features of a plump infant nestling in her arms and with large eyes, full of wonder, staring at him. Henry gave a low whistle, lifted his eye- brows, and looked inquiringly into the maid's face. " Oh ! I am married, your Majesty," she said, blushing crimson and lowering her gaze. " Ah, indeed ! And to whom? " " Gaspard is my husband." " Happy Gaspard ! And how long since, ma belle?" "We were married just after your High- ness pardon me, your Majesty went away," 181 King or Knave she replied, with the last words glancing up quickly to his eye. " Ah, so ! " with another low whistle. Then he asked gayly, "And what does Gaspard think of his little heir? Or is it a girl? " " A boy, your Majesty, a young soldier, I hope," replied the mother proudly, while she tried to hide her burning cheeks by showering caresses on the baby. "A soldier let him be by all means. Why not? He has a brave man, I am sure, for his father. And let me tell you, Lisette, if I live long enough to see your soldier-boy bear arms, I shall make a captain of the little fellow, for his pretty mother's sake." She stole a grateful look into his face and murmured her thanks. " Here ! Take this, to start the little man well on the road," and he slipped a purse into her hand. Lisette grasped the money eagerly, her eyes dancing with joy, and hid it away in her bosom. " Oh, your Excellency, your Majesty, I mean, how generous you are ! It will be a fortune for the boy, when he comes to be a man. Trust me to keep it safe for him ! " Thereupon she was hurrying away, but Henry stopped her, saying, " Stay a moment, Lisette. You are an inventive genius. Come now, bring your wits into play." Then he asked her a question in a low tone. The maid's eyes flashed a quick look of intel- 182 King or Knave ligence into his. She pursed up her mouth an instant in thought, then nodded, as if to say, " All right. I '11 manage it," and tripped away. Henry's question, simple enough in itself, had suggested to her the possibility of gratifying a feeling which was strong within her. She thor- oughly hated her haughty mistress. Within the past year another powerful motive had come into play. She was intensely jealous of her. As an equal, she would have competed with her successfully, she fancied. What she lacked in classic beauty she believed that she more than compensated in sprightliness and tact. For this shrewd minx had observed that, though in theory the fair alone deserve the brave, in practice the adroit commonly get them. Her philosophy of life was very simple : Men are mostly stupid, gullible creatures. By brute force they control things. Let woman use her proper weapon, cunning, and she can blind one of the clumsy giants and keep him grinding contentedly in her prison-house so long as she lists. Acting on this theory, she had promptly married Gaspard and made of the enamored page an uxorious and docile husband. But as a menial what could she do? The impassable gulf between them gave an insuper- able advantage to the other. This thought stung her and sharpened her jealousy, which was further intensified by the sense of a claim 183 King or Knave on Henry as strong as any that Gabrielle could ever obtain. At the first she had aided his efforts to win her mistress out of a merely sentimental interest in a romantic affair, for the fun of the thing. Now, since her own feelings had become so deeply involved, her dearest wish was to defeat the hopes which she was sure that Gabrielle entertained. And the best way of accomplish- ing this was to do that which had now come into her mind. If she might not aspire to win the prize herself, she might dash it from her rival's hand. Oh! it would be sweet to see Gabrielle's pride humbled, to behold her fallen from the prospect of a royal consort's career to the condition of a betrayed and deserted girl! 184 CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH How Gabrielle, having summoned courage, will fain pluck the Fleur-de-lis, but clasps a thorn and is rudely pricked. WHEN Gabrielle met her lover the second time, she was more composed and had thought out a definite line of action. Why should not she begin to give him some idea of what she expected and would exact? It would clear the ground, if she should begin to outline the conditions on which his success depended. But how far should she commit herself? That was the most serious question. To yield too much, in the present state of his affairs, would be preposterous. True, he was now King by divine right. But human perversity, con- crete in the League, might still set divine right a long time at defiance. From Bellegarde she had learned that the royal army had nearly melted away, on the accession of a heretic king. Many Catholics, like fipernon, stood aloof from him. To promise herself unconditionally to a man of fortunes still so dubious would surely be the height of imprudence. On the other hand, she must not drive him away discouraged. It would be dangerous to '85 King or Knave presume too much on her hold upon him. There were other pretty women in France, will- ing too, and every day that she let her suitor roam free, she imperilled that ultimate empire over him which had become part of the warp and woof of her thoughts. No, she must not part from him this time without doing something to rivet the golden chains. She must contrive a way to convey to him the assurance that, certain conditions ful- filled, he might hope to win her, but withal in such fashion that she would not herself be bound. Then a happy inspiration came to her. How could she accomplish this object so well as by asking something from him? This would give him the feeling that she was looking up to him as her protector. In her narrow field she had been a close student of masculine nature, and she had learned that nothing so flatters a man as to have one of the diviner half of humanity supplicating him. To push her brother's interests with his royal master was the thing, next to her own ambition, nearest her heart ; and a specific request on this point would convey an unmistakable hint of the shortest road to her affections. There was still another point, one of great delicacy. She had not been free from self- reproaches on account of her treatment of Bellegarde. She could justify herself only on the ground of being a victim of inexorable fate. 186 King or Knave Now had come the thought, that she might become his benefactress. What an exquisitely beautiful atonement that would be, if, while cruel fate compelled her to deny him her love, she should secretly be the means of raising him to honor! How little would he dream that she, who had seemed so unrelenting, was, like a guardian-angel hovering over the path of a mortal, watching his steps and helping him on his road ! The idea seemed admirable and took complete possession of her imagination. With this purpose in mind, she went to the trysting-place on the second morning. Henry came, too, to the same meeting with a fixed plan. He had observed with unbounded pleasure the change in Gabrielle's manner. He did not delude himself with the belief that she was in love with him. But that she liked him was probable. That she was in a more pliant mood was certain. War had taught him the necessity, during a siege, of seizing the critical hour, when the defensive works had been weak- ened by protracted bombardment, and launching the full force of the attack against the practicable part ere the garrison should have had time to reinforce the endangered point. Such a crisis had come in his present undertaking. How far would he be able to take advantage of it? The outward conditions seemed favorable. The air was full of suggestions of languorous delights, of voluptuous abandonment to plea- sure. Amid such an environment a stern view 187 King or Knave of life seemed wholly out of place. By her every voice, by the breeze softly sighing in the tree-tops and fanning the brow with delicious refreshment, by the low murmur of boughs gently swaying, by the blended odors of the forest, by the joyful carol of birds yielding glad obedience to the universal master, Love, Nature bade all her children live free and happy, seize the pleasures of the passing hour, and let the morrow care for itself. At all events, to Henry, grandson of the author of the Heptameron, half-pagan at heart and pos- sessing a memory stored with Boccaccian senti- ments and situations, such was the suggestion of that soft summer morning. Keenly alive to every outward impression, he did not doubt that the same sensuous influence was felt by the beautiful girl who had come to a clandestine rendezvous with him. And indeed there was ground for his belief. For Gabrielle's beauty had taken on a new and subtler charm. An indefinable something in her look and manner betrayed strange emotions. Every trace of hauteur and of the sarcastic mood was lost in a softer loveliness. Never had she seemed so exquisitely feminine, such an embodi- ment of the eternal womanly. The subdued animation of her manner, the half-submissive, half-pleading glance with which her eye met his and then sank before it, every movement, every accent, bespoke some ineffable change. Juno had been transformed into Venus. 188 King or Knave The lover was enraptured. His heart beat high with hope. At the first words that passed between them he seemed to have a foretaste of love's victory. All the passion that had been growing in him since they first met, was con- centrated in an intense yearning towards that exquisite creature. At the sound of her voice, never before so softly modulated, still more as he pressed his eager lips to her warm fingers, his whole frame glowed with a tremulous ardor. The delightful significance of the first meeting was wholly interior. The words were common- place enough. Soon Gabrielle guided the con- versation to the subject which lay close to her heart. She began by thanking Henry a second time for his gracious conduct towards her brother. This she did so sweetly and with a manner so deferential, that it was immensely effective by its delicate suggestion. Her lover was charmed. He replied with the amplest assurances of his intention to make Gaston's interests his especial care. He expa- tiated on his delight in rendering any service which would add to her happiness. She thanked him warmly. Then, with a slight degree of embarrassment which enhanced her beauty, she begged that his Majesty would include Bellegarde in his gracious intentions. She had no need to fear that her motive would be misunderstood. A duller man might have made such a mistake. Not so Henry. At the first mention of the young man's name he 189 King or Knave glanced keenly at the speaker, noting her emo- tion. At once he saw the full significance of her request. She was at the same time satisfying some lingering kindness towards Bellegarde and appeasing her conscience. He knew in a mo- ment that he had nothing to fear from him as a rival. No woman, certainly no woman of Gabrielle's high spirit, would put a man whom she loved in the position of receiving favors, through her, from a rival whom she did not love. In this petition, preferred with so much inno- cence, Henry heard the note of surrender, and his heart beat faster. Presently Lisette came, holding a handkerchief to her face, and said, " Oh, Mademoiselle, I beg you to let me go to the chateau a few minutes. My nose bleeds dreadfully." In truth her hand- kerchief was saturated with blood. Gabrielle looked furious at her attendant. The idea of leaving her, just when she was conscious of needing her more than ever ! " Go," she said angrily, " and see that you come back quickly." When the maid had disappeared, Henry's re- strained manner disappeared. He threw him- self at his mistress' feet and poured out impas- sioned utterances. He called earth and heaven to witness that he could not longer live without her. He swore that her coldness was killing him. He vowed that he desired no greater felicity under heaven than that of laying his 190 King or Knave kingdom at her feet and showing her to all the world as the empress of his soul. At the earli- est possible day the Pope should be invoked to dissolve his unhappy and illegal marriage with his cousin and bless the union of two loving hearts. Meanwhile let her trust him, let her believe that no human being could be half so tender of her well-being and her good name as he would be. Only let her have faith to put her happiness and honor in his keeping, and all would be well. She should soon shine out before the world as the mistress of France. Meanwhile he had seized her hand, which she did not withdraw, and devoured it with kisses, while he pressed closer and ever closer to her. On her side, Gabrielle experienced strange emotions. As she listened to his burning words, as she felt his hot breath on her cheek and the magnetic current flowing through his hands, she was filled with a novel sensation. The influence already vaguely astir in her blood gathered power and swept through her in a forceful cur- rent. The sensuous languor of the summer- tide, like a basking serpent suddenly awakened to fierce activity, had become a fever in her veins. What was the meaning of this impulse to throw herself into his arms, to lay her head on his shoulder and weep, she habitually so self- reliant, so scornful of silly and sentimental women? Her brain reeled. Her breath came 191 King or Knave and went in quick gasps. She felt her cheeks burning. Reason and principle were forgotten. For the time existence was reduced to its merely physical plane. She seemed to herself to strug- gle desperately against a ruthless traitor who had suddenly risen against her within herself. How long this episode lasted she never knew. Afterwards, as she looked back to it, it seemed to rise like a mountain in her memory and overshadow all metes and bounds of time. Nor did she ever know just how it ended. She only knew that after some time her thoughts became clearer and reason regained its seat. In the chaos of her emotions two practical points loomed up : no contract had been made, no preliminaries settled ; and Lisette might return at any moment. The thought of com- promising herself in that despised person's eyes turned the scale. Pride came to her rescue, and she regained her self-control. Still she was conscious that she had made a moral surrender. With what scorn would she once have repelled and forever resented such an approach ! Now she had offered but a half- hearted resistance. She was saved, but how narrowly ! The thought of the perilous brink so near to which she had heedlessly wandered, appalled her. She was honest enough with herself to accept this occurrence as an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual change. To herself she admitted that, had she not given herself to 192 King or Knave Henry in intention, she never would have toler- ated this experience. But this sense of a moral lapse was not the thing that exasperated her. With that aspect of the matter she was already familiar, and she accepted it stolidly as an inseparable attendant of the course she was following. " Such a career," she said to herself, " is not for a nun." The commercial aspect of her brief aberration was the insistent one. How nearly she had lost the fruits of her well-laid plans ! When Lisette returned, as she tripped by to her former seat, she sent a demure side-long glance at the pair. (If masters and mistresses could but know the unutterable things that servants think under their sly conventionality and open- eyed blindness!) There was nothing unusual apparent. The lovers were a few paces apart, the one seated, as before, the other standing respectfully. Only a keen observer would have remarked a sullen fire in Gabrielle's eye and a burning spot on either cheek, otherwise pallid, while the other betrayed nothing, except a little suppressed excitement in a somewhat nervous gayety. The wily maid noted these signs and drew her own conclusions. And now Henry must shortly begone. He could not expect to prolong these interviews indefinitely. Moreover, they would serve no good purpose. He very well understood that, for the present, he had reached his limit. The 13 193 King or Knave grand coup had failed. Nothing remained but to draw off his forces and renew the deliberate operations of a scientific siege. They had come to their last words. It was the final throw of the cards, and there was eagerness on both sides to score a point, the wooer to secure a definite promise, the wooed to lose none of the advantage which she had gained by her recent victory, fortuitous though it may have been. The sense of having come off the stronger from that encounter revived in her something of her old spirit of raillery. " Beautiful Gabrielle, you will not send me away hopeless?" said Henry, bending low, in an impassioned murmur. " Surely not, Sire. That were a cruel thing, when you have so great need of hope. When you have an army to collect, wavering subjects to rally and inspire, the League to overcome, the Church to conciliate, in short, a sea of difficulties to cross, it would be little less than treason in a loyal subject, who from her heart wishes you success, to put the least shadow of discouragement in your way." " Ah ! is it so," replied Henry with feeling, " that you taunt me with my troubles? Would you remind me that I have still a kingdom to conquer? Granted. But bethink you of the things which I have already accomplished. Recall the obstacles already surmounted. I say to you, it is written in Heaven that I shall succeed." 194 King or Knave " That may very well be, your Majesty. But, pardon me, a plain mortal must be content to wait until that which your keener eye sees written in Heaven is registered on earth, before she can accept it." " Ah, cruel one ! will you, then, rob me of the hope by which I live?" " God forbid, Sire ! Have not I told you how fervently I desire your success ? Is it not my hourly prayer that you may win your throne ? And have you forgotten, Sire, that I have a brother and friends who share your good or ill fortune? Surely, these are reasons enough why I am deeply concerned for your triumph." Henry sighed, "Is that all that you can say to a heart hungering for love?" Then, sud- denly bursting into a passionate cry, he ex- claimed, " What care I for kingdom and crown, unless I may share them with the queen of my soul? More to me, Gabrielle, I swear, than all else is your love. Give me that, and, though I might dwell in a hut, I would not exchange with the Emperor. Rob me of that, and the throne of France would find me a beggar still. Great- ness I seek only that I may lay it at your feet, cruel one, and make you the peer of queens." Gabrielle looked at him archly. " Is not this," she asked " a scrap from one of those old romances on which you once told me that your youth was nourished? Why should I suppose that your Majesty, confronted by a thousand obstacles and overwhelmed by the cares of King or Knave state, can find time or thought to bestow on me?" " Gabrielle, I swear it. On my honor as a king, nay, as a knight, I call Heaven to witness that you are the supreme object of my life. Listen to me ! Cease, for God's sake, your trifling with words and let heart speak to heart. I adore you. I lay myself and every hope that I have at your feet. Tell me in plain words how I may win you." " Your Majesty uses strange language. As if I could impose terms ! " Then, suddenly changing to a tone of command, she said, " Go, Sire, and conquer your throne. Make the title of King a reality." "And then?" " Then we shall see." The lover lifted the beautiful hand to his lips, pressed it again and again, and murmured, " I go, to come back and lay France at your feet." Then he turned away and disappeared in the forest. 196 PART III CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH How the King laughs best because he laughs last, RUMORS the most disquieting for the royalists and encouraging for their enemies ran through the country. The Bearnais, it was contemptu- ously said by the latter, was growing weaker every day and his pretensions more ridiculous. The former heard with dismay that his army had been so depleted by defections that he was not only unable to act offensively against Paris, but could not even make a stand against May- enne in the field. Not only had the extreme Catholics refused to support a heretic king, but not a few of the Huguenot chiefs, incensed at the promises which he was compelled to make to the adherents of the other faith, withdrew from him with their troops. The universal expectation was that he would fall back on that region where the Reformation had its chief strength and where he had person- ally the most following, the South-West. To the immense surprise of both friends and foes, he took just the opposite course. With appalling audacity, he advanced into Normandy, 197 King or Knave a region where the Protestant faith had always but a slender following, and where its fortunes were associated with the disastrous battle of Dreux. It looked like plunging into the jaws of ruin. In point of fact, it was an exceedingly shrewd move. It gave to the scattered royalists of the North, and Normandy was intensely loyal, an opportunity of rallying around the banner of their new king; and, above all, it placed him in easy communication with Elizabeth of England and within reach of the men and supplies which he expected from her. The northward march was viewed by the enemy with unfeigned delight. It was sup- posed to be the overture of their certain triumph. Mayenne took the road in the same direction, promising confidently to bring back the Bearnais dead or a prisoner. So assured was Paris that it would soon hear the tidings of a glorious victory of the League, that windows on the Rue Saint- Antoine were hired, that from them one might witness the triumphal proces- sion escorting the captive Bearnais. Henry was serene and hopeful. He had few men and no money. After the death of his predecessor, he had been able to retain the Swiss auxiliaries only on condition of their serv- ing on credit for some months. But such was the indomitable spirit of the man, and so strong was the faith of his most tried officers in his ability to overcome all difficulties, that they inspired others with their own enthusiasm. 198 King or Knave Thus, falling back with his little army before one overwhelmingly larger, he presented the rare spectacle of a retreating commander gaining ground in the confidence of his men. And now the northern limit had been reached. He must fight, surrender, or be driven into the sea. With the English Channel at his back, he took position near the castle of Arques and pre- sented a bold front to the foe. The Duke of Parma, Philip of Spain's renowned commander in the Low Countries, had sent a considerable force to Mayenne's aid. German lanzknechts and reiters and Swiss Catholic infantry, hired with Spanish money, marched under the banners of the League. In short, the insurgents had massed all their resources to overwhelm the heir of the throne. Mayenne calculated on shutting him up in Dieppe, and either destroying him there, or compelling him to desert his army and take flight by water to England or Rochelle. Henry had no notion of letting himself be caged in Dieppe. Arques offered an immense advantage to an army acting on the defensive, and he hastened to seize that position and strengthen himself there with earthworks. Soldiers, sailors, and citizens worked together with incredible energy, under the personal direction of the King and Marshal de Biron, in digging trenches and rearing ramparts. Mayenne moved with his usual deliberateness. When he appeared on the scene, he found his 199 King or Knave adversary awaiting him with a force only one- third as large as his, but in a position naturally strong and improved by all that military skill could do. Still the outside world thought Henry lost Indeed the situation seemed desperate. Withal he was never more serene than now, when he stood, sword in hand, with his back to the sea, to make a desperate fight for his kingdom. Two days the League commander spent in reconnoitring and in vain efforts to entice his wary foe from his entrenched camp. Then, under cover of a dense fog, he attacked in force. Through an act of treachery on one side and of credulity on the other, the royalists came near to losing the day, almost before it was begun. A regiment of German spearmen, at the head of the infantry of the League, on com- ing close to the breastwork, began to shout that they were Protestants, and that they pur- posed yielding themselves to the King. There- upon their countrymen and the Swiss among the defenders shouted welcome to them and even helped them to enter the lines. Once within the trenches, the perfidious Teutons began to lay them about furiously, killing every- body within reach. One bold fellow went so far as to hold his pike at Henry's breast and call upon him to surrender. The situation was critical. Biron was un- horsed. The King's men, confounded by the 200 King or Knave sudden appearance of a large body of the enemy among them, were giving ground in dismay. A moment more and a panic was inevitable. At the height of the confusion Henry's voice was heard shouting, "Are there not in France fifty gentlemen to die with their King?" " Here is one, Sire," shouted a youthful voice near him, and Bellegarde came hewing his way to his master's side. Another and another re- sponded, till the King was surrounded by a determined band of gentlemen who aided him to hold the assailants in check and rally the dis- ordered ranks. In this service none was more strenuous or more efficient than Bellegarde, and Henry observed with the delight of an old sol- dier the young fellow's coolness and courage. This timely effort turned the tide. The royal- ist troops recovered themselves from their tem- porary disorder. Henry had sent for some of his cavalry, and these charged the Leaguers with effect. At the same time, Chatillon, the great son of great Coligny, with five hundred Huguenot veterans, the " tenth legion " of the royal army, took the enemy in flank. With their steady tramp these hardy soldiers drove the Germans back foot by foot. A fresh cavalry charge increased their disorder. Then, of a sudden, the fog lifted, and the sun of France shone out. Instantly the guns of the castle of Arques, hitherto silent because of the fog, thundered on the shattered assailants and completed their discomfiture. The day was 201 King or Knave saved. As Mayenne was retiring, covering his retreat with a Swiss regiment in close column, Biron pushed forward several cannon and poured into this dense array volley after volley, with cruel slaughter. Louis de Bellegarde's one regret was that his friend, Gaston, whose regiment was with Marshal d'Aumont in Picardy, could not share in the glories of that day. " Monsieur de Bellegarde," said the King, at their first meeting after the battle, "you have earned the thanks of every true Frenchman by your courage and energy at a trying moment. Trust me, the first command at my disposal shall be yours." Well might Louis's heart swell with pride and joy. Ah, that Gaston had been there, that he might repeat those words to his father and to another who had all the delight of soldierly blood in gallant deeds ! A few days later Henry met a movement of Mayenne to take his position in the rear by transferring his army to Dieppe. A fresh attack of the Leaguers was repulsed with disastrous loss. Then, to crown, as it seemed, the triumph of the royal arms, an English fleet sailed into the harbor of Dieppe and landed four thousand English and Scotch soldiers, sent by Elizabeth to the aid of her ally. Mayenne's hopes were blasted. His army disheartened by reverses and weakened by de- sertion, he had no alternative but to retreat 202 King or Knave The Bearnais, lately falling back before his pur- suers, " into the sea," as they said, now drove them before him towards Paris. His friends began to believe that some magic influence was at work, and that no human power could pre- vail against him. Not only was all France thrilled with the story of his achievement and plunged into gloom, or exalted to an almost frantic joy; Europe awoke to the discovery of a genius. Embassies came from various states to congratulate him on his accession, and to offer treaties of alliance. The Sultan tendered him a powerful fleet. The world began to see in him the only man who could hold Spain, the universal oppressor, in check. Now the victor was once more before Paris. But the city of Saint Genevieve had no idea of tamely yielding to the hated and dreaded Bearnais. The militia, the citizens, even the monks were under arms. The royal forces met a brave though unskilled resistance. Neverthe- less, the suburbs were taken. Chdtillon's stern Huguenots, with the cry, " Remember Saint Bartholomew's Day," drove the citizen soldiers with dreadful slaughter through the streets of the faubourg. With sack and pillage of the suburbs the royal troops compensated them- selves for the pay which their leader was unable to give them. The fall of the rebellious city was imminent. Then came an unexpected deliverance. May- enne, who was supposed to be at Amiens, has- 203 King or Knave tened to the rescue by forced marches. A half-burned bridge over the Oise which he re- paired, opened for him the road to the capital, and before Henry had any intimation of his being in the vicinity, he was inside Paris. How characteristic of the Bearnais, that he should let the fruits of a great victory slip through his fingers ! It was the story of Coutras repeated. Nothing remained for him but to draw off his forces, in the hope that Mayenne would attack him in the open country. But the League leader was playing his own game and resolutely declined to accommodate his adver- sary with an engagement. Then began a vigorous campaign in the pro- vinces. Throughout the winter Henry occu- pied himself with taking rebellious cities and with organizing his government. Town after town opened its gates to him, the more readily because he was notoriously lenient in his terms. Provisions and a little money for his men were all that he asked, and beyond occasionally hang- ing some conspicuous traitor, he showed no sign of resentment. So swift were his move- ments, and so rapidly his successes followed one another, that the League was fairly stupe- fied. Before the end of the winter Normandy, Picardy, and Maine were almost wholly paci- fied. Of the great provinces of the North, Brittany alone held out. The South and the West were already his. Everywhere he was gaining ground. 204 CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH How hate and revenge, for once, serve a good purpose, and how Jean Fourcade denies himself his heart 'j desire at the cost of another's peace. IT was no easy task that confronted Jean Fourcade. The more he pondered it, the more he realized its difficulties. First, he was alone and unsupported. Under other circumstances, to denounce his enemy and appeal to her record would have been the obvious course. But here, amid timid villagers, overawed by their masters, who were of strong Leaguer sympathies, it would have been suicidal madness. - Again, he was not there in his individual capacity, but as his master's representative. To disclose his identity prematurely would de- feat the object of his mission ; and he must not sacrifice his public duty to private ends. He might obtain a private interview with Mademoiselle de Rebours, and, by working on her fears, secure proof of her guilt towards him. But this would involve the abandonment of TreVille, since it pre-supposed a promise of secrecy. And this course he would not even consider. Come what might, he was resolved 205 King or Knave that under no circumstances would he take the part of silence. Was there, perhaps, some way of saving young Treville, without precipitating a catastrophe? None that he could think of. He might send him a letter of warning. But what would it avail? The infatuated youth would surely throw it aside as the work of a cowardly slanderer. More than once he thought of seeking the parish priest and laying his whole story before him. He had ascertained that Father Damien was held in reverence by all his humble flock as a godly shepherd, zealous for their good, keeping himself aloof from the wicked crew of castle-folk, and meeting them only at the call of duty, when he must needs touch the leprosy which he could not heal. But here recurred the old difficulty. Why should this priest believe a story which other priests had discredited? Besides, the detail of a personal grievance against Mademoiselle de Rebours would surely weaken the attempt to rescue young Treville, by putting his procedure under suspicion. Such were the perplexities which beset Four- cade. Turn which way he would, he could see no way out of them. One point alone loomed up clear : only when he should be able to confront his enemy openly with such damning evidence as would abash even her brazen effrontery, could he move effectively against her. Until then, patience ! 206 King or Knave Was ever mortal in a more cruel strait? Here, before him, within his reach, was an almost in- fallible way of gaining the end dearest to him in the world. He had but to wash his hands of young Treville's ruin, in order to secure the means which would restore his Sophie and his good name. On the other hand, let him save the youth, and that act would forever shut the door of hope against himself. His will failed him. He had no power to decide. But one thing he could do and he must do immediately. It was, to communicate with his master. He must secure from him whatever might aid his purpose. Whether or not he should use it, he must be forearmed. It behooved him, also, to make a report of his observations. He had now been at Usson long enough to reach very definite conclu- sions on the point, which had occasioned his coming thither. It was evident that there was not anything to be apprehended from Marguerite's assemblage of infamous notorie- ties, men of no name at all and women of too much name, all too indolent and too steeped in frivolous pleasures to initiate a political movement. Happily, he had a trusty messenger at hand. He had found, living incognito at Usson, an old comrade, Gilles Du Pre by name, a former trooper of La Trimouille's horse, now eagerly awaiting an opportunity of returning to the 207 King or Knave King's service. He was just the man to carry a letter to his master. To the King he wrote briefly and strongly the result of his observations : that from the ruined debauchees who surrounded the Queen, men and women devoid alike of brains or heart for a great enterprise, nothing was to be apprehended more serious than a plot, such as one now on foot, to entrap an unwary boy into a disastrous marriage. To thwart this scheme, as well as for another purpose which he would readily guess, when he learned that the chief person in this conspiracy was the one whom in all the world the writer had the most reason for hating, he begged his master to furnish him with such a statement as he might use most effectively. He knew the man too well to fear that any reserve would stand in the way of Henry's responding to this request. He begged also that, since the object of his mission had been accomplished, he might have leave to rejoin the army, so soon as his personal affairs had been settled. A week, Fourcade thought, would, under ordinary conditions, give ample time for the return of his messenger. It was a week of almost intolerable suspense. Now it had passed, and there was no sign of Du Pre. Two days more Fourcade waited, with such patience as he could command. Mean- while signs and rumors indicated that his oppor- tunity was fast nearing its end : whatever was to be done must be done quickly. 208 King or Knave Then he formed a desperate resolve. He would put on his boldest front and try to force his enemy to terms. In her first surprise at his unexpected appearance, and not knowing the weakness of his position, perhaps she would give way. At all events, he might by a bold show ar- rest the progress of her plans and secure time for the return of his messenger. It was worth a trial. Little did Fourcade dream what momentous consequences would result from this seemingly forlorn attempt. By bribing a fellow from the castle, he secured the delivery, through the lady's maid, of a note which ran thus: " One who has long known Mademoiselle de Rebours, and who is outside the circle in which she now moves, earnestly desires an interview with her. If she thinks her interests worth guarding, she will meet him to-morrow, unattended, unless by her maid, an hour before sunset, on the bridge at the foot of the hill." In the perilous step which he was about to take, of dealing, alone and unsupported, with a crafty and unscrupulous woman, it behooved him to take every precaution against treachery. The bridge was approached from the village by a long stretch of open road. Beyond it and across a narrow meadow, a dense copse bor- dered the highway. From this concealment he might see whether his enemy, if she came, complied with the terms of his note. *4 209 King or Knave The next day, as the hour drew near, he ensconced himself in the thick wood beyond the bridge. He had not long to wait before he saw two feminine figures approaching. Truth to tell, Angelique de Rebours was no coward. A tinge of peril in any situation gave it a charm for her. Moreover, she had good reasons for not wishing her meeting with a stranger to be known in the castle ; and the openness of the place was a guarantee against surprise. Fourcade emerged from his hiding-place and advanced to meet the women. They eyed him closely. As he drew nearer, the Rebours bent on him a look of disdain. What could this plain-looking man, in bourgeois dress, have to say to her that might affect her interests ? " May I ask Mademoiselle de Rebours to grant me speech with her alone ? " said Four- cade. At the sound of his voice she started, and the look of contemptuous indifference quickly changed into one of mingled scorn and hatred. " Go, Justine, and wait for me by yonder tree." As the maid withdrew, the mistress turned fiercely upon Fourcade. " You here ! How dare you ? And who gave you, insolent, the right to summon me to meet you ? Have you forgotten that I once promised that some day I should have a gentleman slit your ears ? " " I have forgotten nothing, Mademoiselle de Rebours. Therefore it is that I am here." 210 King or Knave His firm and restrained manner impressed her. " What is it, then, that you want ? " " Justice ! That you furnish me proof, in your handwriting, of the infamous falsehood by which you have smirched my honor and blasted my happiness." The woman's eyes blazed. " How dare you speak to me thus, low-born knave ? Do you not know that I can have you strung up like a thieving cur? And, pardieu ! I will." "No, Mademoiselle, you will not. You do not forget that the longest arm and the sharp- est sword in France will be stretched out to avenge me. I am here on his errand. Let one of your crew touch me, and you will have treason to answer for. You know its penalty." And he made a significant gesture. " Not for me ! " she laughed scornfully. " I shall be far away." "Never dream it! He knows that you are here. So soon as I learned the fact, I sent an express messenger to him with the news. Let the least harm befall me, he will know what brain planned it, and you reckon without your host, if you imagine a corner in the realm where his vengeance will not find you." She paled, but, with a scornful laugh, made a show of deriding Fourcade's threat. " Why do I bandy words with you, when I hold you here like a rat in a trap? Your 211 King or Knave bravado about your master is a fairy-tale. Here, in this remote region, you might dis- appear, you understand, Jean Fourcade? -as suddenly and completely as if the earth had swallowed you up. Months would elapse ere your master would even miss you. The actors would all be far away, leaving not a trace. Then where would your fine vengeance be ? " " Ha, ha ! Mademoiselle de Rebours, think you that I who know you so well, have been so reckless as to come hither without precautions? Believe me, if harm befell me at this moment, before many hours should pass, you would rue it bitterly. I have placed in the hands of Father Damien ha! you know him, I see a sealed document, to be opened, mark you well, if the least evil betides me. It contains a statement which, the hour that he reads it, will drive him straight to the castle, to confer with a certain young gentleman whom it nearly concerns to know your past life " " Devil ! " she hissed, starting towards him with a movement as if she would strike him. " Hold, Mademoiselle ! " said Fourcade coolly, raising his hand ; " there is more. My state- ment, unsupported, that young gentleman would discredit. But my death, mark you well ! would stamp it true, as surely as it would indicate the murderess. You follow me?" She ground her teeth. Shaking his finger in warning, he continued deliberately, " Observe, then, the least violence 212 King or Knave done to me blasts your dearest hopes. Ha! Have I touched you now? Listen yet Your simile of a rat in a trap is admirable. Only reverse it, I pray you. The trap is yonder castle, and the rat is the nest of traitors whom it harbors. My master knows the whole miser- able intrigue. But for his contempt and mine you would not sleep in your beds to-night. Had I spoken the word, you would ere this have counted your beads by the light of burn- ing rafters. Provoke him too far, and you know what he is, when he is roused your hot- bed of treason will blaze about your heads." They stood facing each other, she glaring and panting with rage; he, calm in the con- sciousness of power, full of restrained wrath, resting one hand on the parapet of the bridge, while with the other he emphasized his words with significant gestures. For a moment there was silence. Then she said in a subdued tone, "What do you ask, then?" "What I said at the first justice, a full avowal of your crime ; that given to me in writ- ing and attested by you in person before the village priest." The Rebours was pale and gasping. Quickly she glanced over the situation. Should she submit to this humiliation ? Had he the means of compelling her ? It was doubtful. He evi- dently feared making an unsupported statement against her. So long as she left him undisturbed, he could not harm her. 213 King or Knave On the other hand, when the cup of happiness was so near, was it prudent to tolerate the pres- ence of an enemy who might dash it from her lips? It surely was worth an effort to remove him. How much freer she would breathe, when she knew him gone ! Besides, what she would concede could not possibly harm her at Usson. She would condition her yielding on Fourcade's going away immediately. Who will say that there was not, also, some desire to undo her great crime and make such amends as were possible? Was her heart so seared that it was incapable of a single whole- some feeling? Or was there deep beneath her cynical recklessness a yearning for a truer life ? Her manner changed. From being defiant it became conciliatory. Her voice was soft and low. " And if I am willing to do what you ask, to give you a writing that will clear you, what return do you make?" Ah, that was for Fourcade the moment of supreme trial. The tempter was before him, this woman bidding for a compact of silence, he to go his way to Sophie, freed from oppro- brium; she to pursue her schemes, safe from molestation. In that moment, not so much young Treville's peril as her crime was uppermost in his mind. All the growing hate of years seemed concen- trated into one intense force. There she was before him, this arch-traitress who had mur- dered his peace; the arrogant patrican suing 214 King or Knave for terms. Ha! it was something gained, to have bent that proud will. Should he make a compact with her, let her go unpunished, to crown her career of crime with an honorable marriage? A thousand times, no! She must pay the penalty of the evil she had done. Yet, ah ! it was hard to reject this offer. Pale, and with set features, he said one word: 41 Nothing." She bowed her head and was silent for a moment. Then she pleaded again, looking at him with beseeching eyes, " Listen, Jean Fourcade ! I will do all that you ask. You shall have a writing that will clear you utterly. You shall go to-morrow to-night, if you will think of it, this very night ! to your Sophie, with the proof of your innocence. Forgive me, if you have it in your heart. But, for God's sake, go. Will you ? " She had touched the right chord, but under her hand it yielded a discord. He was in- furiated that she dared attempt to play on his love. With her assumed pathos she would wheedle him, she who had cursed his life ! He railed at her. " Leave you ! Leave you to entrap a foolish boy and blast his life ! Never ! " She burst into tears. " Oh, my God, no ! No, no ! Not that ! " Sobs choked her voice. It was some time before she could speak. While she stood there, 215 King or Knave the picture of a penitent Magdalen, her bosom heaving, her swimming eyes hanging on his, Fourcade looked at her in amazement and grow- ing wrath. The damned actress ! What infinite art she possessed ! Her self-abasement made her only more contemptible in his eyes. After a while she regained some measure of self-control. Again she pleaded, with her hands clasped, her lips quivering, her head bowed. " Oh ! Jean Fourcade, hear, before you refuse me. I have done you a great wrong. As God is my judge, I bitterly rue it. Forgive me, if you can. I am willing to do all that is possible to make amends. It will yet be well with you. A true woman's love awaits you. As you hope hereafter to be forgiven, do not be harsh with me. For mercy's sake spare me ! Ah, if you knew my heart; how I loathe the life I live, how I long for a better ! Will you shut the door in my face? Ah, God! you would pity me, if you knew my story, how men have tempted and pursued me all my life. Who but this boy has ever offered me a true love ? My one dream is of a home, a quiet home of trust and honor, far away from courts. No wife was ever truer than I shall be. I would not have a shadow of suspicion cross his mind. I shall live a new life and deserve his trust. Will you forgive and spare me? I will pray you look at me yes, I will pray night and day that God will reward and bless you and crown you and your Sophie with happiness." 216 King or Knave She paused, her lips parted, looking beseech- ingly into his face in an agony of supplication. Should he trust her? Could he? Was this contrition genuine, or was it but another device of the arch-deceiver? He remembered how she once imposed on him with words of friendly sympathy and cunningly drew from him the story of his love, to make a mock of it ; how she played the actress to his gentle Sophie, greeting her with smiles, when she meant to stab her to the heart. A new wave of anger swelled up within him. Believe her? No! Forgive her? Never ! Her apparent contrition only showed how utterly she felt herself in his power. He swept aside her pitiful appeal with a rude gesture. " I promise nothing, Mademoiselle ; will yield nothing. You have heard my terms : a written confession, attested before the priest. Nothing less. You do well to humble yourself, since my day has come at last. But it will avail you nothing. You are about to reap what you have sown." She stretched out her hand and laid it timidly on his arm. But for the nearness of her maid, she would have gone down on her knees to him. " For her sake ! She would forgive me." His eyes blazed. He threw off her hand savagely. " How dare you mention her, infamous ? " She recoiled from him. Her manner changed more swiftly than before. Her face grew livid, 217 King or Knave her features rigid. Her wet eyes flamed. All the devil in her was roused. She had humbled herself, only to be flouted with insult ! While she glared at him like a fury, she quickly glanced over the situation. She had lived a gambler's life. She was accustomed to swift decisions and great ventures. Now she was playing for a high stake. A few days more were all she needed. Could he harm her within that time? Scarcely. She would chance it. There was no alternative, other than that of ruining herself. Pale with rage, she hissed in his face, " Do your worst, insolent! I defy you." And she swept away. Alas for Fourcade ! He had made a brave throw for a great stake, and it had failed. Now he must suffer the miserable reaction of disap- pointment. He must exercise all his self-con- trol to hold himself in hand, while his enemy enjoyed her triumph. Once, twice within the next few days he encountered her and her gallant. Sweeping with her keen glance the groups of lookers-on, as she rode past, she easily singled him out, and their eyes met. Hers expressed concentrated hate. Each day strengthened her conviction that he was power- less. Meanwhile rumor among the villagers had it that preparations were being rapidly pushed for the expected nuptials at the castle. Heavens ! How long would this suspense 218 King or Knave last? How long could he endure it? Had his messenger proved faithless? Or had some mis- hap befallen him? Soon he would have lost such an opportunity as could never come to him again. He knew not that Gilles Du Pr6 in his endeavors to reach Henry, was like one chasing a bog-light. The "brigand king" was careering over the country, pushing an irregular warfare, such as delighted his adventurous spirit. No sooner would Du Pr6 hear of him at one place and follow him thither, than he was away, striking the enemy at some other point. 219 CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH How the King -visits a lady who makes light of the magic spell, but haply meets another who adores it. ABOUT the end of February, Henry had settled down to besieging Dreux. The slow operations of the approach by parallels gave him leisure for entertaining himself; and the neighborhood was not wanting in the means. A few leagues away from Dreux and near to Mantes was an object of great attraction for him. The chateau of La Roche-Guyon was oc- cupied by a lady whom he had known in her girlhood. He had heard of her marriage and widowhood ; but, until a few months since, he had not met her within several years. Antoi- nette de Pons, Marquise de Guercheville, was reputed to be wealthy and a stanch royalist. For these reasons, as he passed near her abode on his march northward, the previous autumn, he had visited her. He had found a lady of fascinating beauty and manners. He had been dazzled and captivated. Madly enam- ored though he was of Gabrielle, his susceptible nature was not capable of coming near so much charm without experiencing emotion. But no sooner did he exhibit the least sign of a gallant mood, than the lady playfully checked King or Knave him. At his first complimentary speech she said laughingly, " Ah, Sire, reserve your rhetori- cal flowers for younger women. I am too old to care for them. You would not want me on my terms, and I would not have you on yours. Count me for one of your steady-going, reliable subjects, ready to die for you as my King, if need be. But as for anything else, excuse me, I pray you." And the beautiful widow, her bright eyes lighted with mirth, looked more provokingly fascinating than ever. Every subsequent attempt to draw her out of this attitude proved equally vain. She made light of Henry's expressions of admiration. No callow youth could have been checked in too precocious advances by a cool-headed woman of the world in more sprightly fashion than was this renowned gallant by a woman many years his junior. Henry was piqued. This experience was novel and exasperating. To be set down with so good-humored raillery he could not resent. But it put him on his mettle. Of all things in the world he would have liked to lay siege to this mocking lady; and no captured citadel could have yielded him half the pleasure he would have derived from making her feel the fire of love. But the exigencies of war compelled him to continue his march, and for some time he saw nothing more of the baffling lady of La Roche- Guyon. Again and again she came into his 221 King or Knave thoughts, however, in the trenches at Arques and during the campaign of the ensuing months. Now he found himself, by a happy chance, in her neighborhood, with leisure to follow up the opportunity. He longed to see her. He was haunted by the memory of that smile, at once so alluring and so mocking. There were ques- tions, too, which he wished to solve. Was she really impervious to love? Or was her heart pre-occupied ? More likely the latter. That any one, least of all a young and beautiful widow, could live without love seemed almost incredible. He had a great desire, too, to know how she would receive him since fortune had declared so markedly in his favor. Accordingly, one day, when the siege was well under way, he galloped off on one of those romantic excursions which were his delight, and presented himself at the chateau of La Roche- Guyon. He found the lady of the manor not one whit less provokingly beautiful and baffling than on the former occasion. She greeted him with effusive loyalty, congratulated him warmly on his brilliant successes and expressed her joy at his marked progress towards the throne. But the moment that he made an approach to a gallant vein, he found himself checked by the merry laugh which seemed to treat his love- making as a mild monomania, not to be dealt with seriously. Presently she rose and left the room, saying, 222 King or Knave " Excuse me a moment, Sire. I have a pteasant surprise in store for you." She returned very quickly, leading in Gabrielle d'Estrees. To explain this young lady's unexpected presence, we must go back a little. It will perhaps be remembered that the Baron of Cceuvres had of late been much occupied with the idea that his daughter's isolated life was a great hindrance to her making such acquaintances as might promote his darling scheme of a brilliant marriage for her. This feeling had been not a little strengthened by his discovery of her feeling for Bellegarde. It made him realize that she had a heart, and that there was danger of her misplacing it. He credited her with too good principles to suppose that she could be capable of over- looking the advantages of such a union as he dreamed of, when the chance should come in her way. Having been reared with sound views, under favoring conditions, that is to say, the presence of admirers of birth and wealth, she would not fail to act as would become her father's child. After all, it was not to be won- dered at, if the poor girl, in her isolation, had conceived some sort of foolish feeling for a pleasing young fellow. But let her see some- thing of the great world, and she would justify the principles so carefully instilled into her, by making a suitable choice. The King's successes contributed to strengthen 223 King or Knave this conviction. The accession of a monarch so capable and already voluntarily pledged to ad- vance his son v/as full of bright promise for his house. It revived his long-deferred hopes of seeing his family once more in the full zenith of glory ; and it emphasized the necessity of put- ting Gabrielle in the way of doing her part in this work and reaping her full share of the expected honors. To take her to court was the natural thing. But court there was none, when the King was still fighting for his crown. To introduce her in Paris was equally out of the question, since the capital was in the hands of a mob of bigoted insurgents. The next best thing would be to place her, if possible, under the care of some distinguished lady who might take her interests in charge. Happily there was one, the widow of a near kinsman, to whom he believed that he might appeal with a good hope of success. Many years had elapsed since he had seen Madame de Guercheville. But she was reputed amiable and virtuous, and he knew her to be rich and well-born. To his great joy, a carefully worded letter, in which he stated his views and wishes and pathetically bewailed his daughter's double misfortune in her isolation and in her lack of a mother's care at a time when it was peculiarly needed, brought a favorable reply. The lady wrote that it would give her great happiness to have her young cousin come for a long stay 224 King or Knave under her roof, and that she would endeavor to do a motherly part by her. Gabrielle heard the news of this plan with unbounded delight. What a relief from the dreary monotony of life at Coeuvres ! And what joy to enter, under the most favorable auspices, into the great world ! Thus the early winter found her domiciled at La Roche-Guyon. When his hostess left Henry, she gave him no idea of the nature of the surprise which she had in store for him. Nor did she tell Gabrielle who was the visitor whom she wished her to meet. It was a bit of harmless pleasantry in which she was about to indulge. It would be great fun, she thought, to watch the effect upon Henry's susceptible nature of coming unexpectedly into the presence of beauty so bewildering. For Gabrielle, too, she had a surprise planned. It would be rare sport to introduce the plain- looking gentleman, with the air of a soldier of fortune, under a private name, and then to enjoy her confusion, when she should learn the truth. Her scheme collapsed in an instant. Preced- ing Gabrielle into the room, she was in the act of saying, " Mademoiselle d'Estre"es, I have the honor of presenting Monsieur de Bourbon," when she was struck with the signs of startled recognition on both sides. Gabrielle flushed crimson, then turned deadly pale and trembled visibly. Even the veteran Henry could not quite command himself and 16 225 King or Knave betrayed his embarrassment in the absence of the debonair manner habitual to him in the society of women. He was the first to recover himself, and the two exchanged greetings in the most indifferent tone that each was able to assume. Henry made haste to express his pleasure in meeting Mademoiselle d'Estrees and to inquire after her father's health ; while Gabrielle formally congratulated him on his accession to the throne and the success of his arms. But the evident desire of both to give their acquaintance the most commonplace character in appearance did not impose on their hostess. She shrewdly suspected something unusual in their relations, and the reputation of one of the parties inevitably forced upon her mind certain sinister surmises, so far, at the least, as he was concerned. She could not but feel disquieted for her young kinswoman and deeply regretted having been the means of renewing an acquaint- ance which boded no good to Gabrielle, if it should be continued. Henry's visit did not last long. The con- versation turned on matters of public interest, such as the progress of the siege of Dreux, the sentiment of the burghers, and the political com- plexion of the surrounding region. Gabrielle a^ked after her brother, but, as it seemed to her hostess, quite unaccountably, did not express any wish to see him. After their visitor had gone, the lady of La 226 King or Knave Roche-Guyon said, looking keenly at Gabrielle, " You completely turned the tables on me, my dear. I meant to surprise you ; but I own that I was dumfounded, when I learned that you and the King are old acquaintances." " He visited us at Cceuvres during his cam- paigns in the South, at a time when he was only King of Navarre," said Gabrielle with a manner that plainly implied that she was not disposed to pursue the subject further. " He is a gentleman whose visits many fathers would willingly dispense with," said her hostess, still eying Gabrielle closely. " He is much maligned, I fancy," was the dry answer. Seeing that she could not push inquiry further, without rudeness, her hostess dropped the sub- ject, with a painful impression of some compli- cation with which, as Gabrielle's guardian, she ought to be acquainted. 227 CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH How one who is too old to love decides that he is not too old to marry for a consideration. THE next day after his visit to the chateau of La Roche-Guyon and his unexpected meeting with Gabrielle, Henry sat alone in his quarters, in deep thought. He was, in fact, arranging his campaign, not that against the League, but the more important one ; for while, in his theory, affairs of state took precedence of affairs of the heart, he was, like other mortals, prone to lose sight of his theory at times. And just now the all-absorbing interest was love. So far as he was concerned, the League might go its way for a while. The nearness of Gabrielle had stimulated his passion to intense activity. That she was in his neighborhood, and free from the surveillance of her father, was one of those happy circum- stances in which the son of a pious mother was wont to recognize the helping hand of Provi- dence, and was an augury of his early success. That he would follow up the previous day's meeting by opening private communication with Gabrielle was matter of course. To secure a clandestine interview, through Lisette's aid, 228 King or Knave would, perhaps, not be difficult. But he was weary of his mistress's Fabian policy. He longed to end this campaigning that led to nothing by a bold and successful stroke. This was the problem that occupied his thought while his guns were thundering against the walls of Dreux, and the rebellious burghers imagined him nursing schemes of vengeance, His reverie was interrupted by the entrance of a strange figure, that of an old man, bent in form, with scant, dingy-white locks, livid complexion and wizened face, from which peered out rheumy eyes, small and red, like those of a ferret. The Sieur de Liancourt took his title from an ancient demesne of which he was lord, and he was by birth entitled to a place among the old noblesse. But sordid and miserly habits, grow- ing stronger with years, had rendered him an object of detestation among his natural asso- ciates, not a few of whom had sore memories of cruel straits to which he had put them in the process of extorting repayment, with enormous interest, of sums which they had borrowed from him in their need. In this wretched individual every human passion seemed dead, every honorable desire extinct. He lived for the one object of hoard- ing gold. To secure money from the wealthy at the lowest and to let it to the needy at the highest figure, was his sole employment. Such a personage would find ample opportunity for the exercise of his peculiar talents in following 229 King or Knave an army- composed, as was Henry's, largely of volunteers, frequently in straits for the mere means of living. But reckless officers, of gam- bling propensities, often put to the necessity of raising large sums at short notice, were his most profitable customers; and more than one fair estate had passed into his hands without other consideration than a gaming debt, with interest charges largely exceeding the original sum. Thus he had accumulated enormous wealth. But his worn habiliments and unclean person suggested, rather, abject penury. Henry himself had more than once been obliged by his necessities to resort to this vam- pire, whom he hated as heartily as did any of the young blades about the camp. The money-lender had come at this time to talk with his Majesty about a loan, then overdue. Happily, the means of repaying it were almost literally in sight. " Come hither, my prince of robbers," said Henry, taking the old man by the sleeve and drawing him to a window which commanded a view of the camp and the trenches in the valley below and, beyond these, the walls of Dreux. " Let me show you the solidest security for the money I owe you." Just then a puff of smoke rose from the lines, and the report of a cannon came to their ears. "There! Did you mark that shot?" said Henry. "You have a genius for figures, as I have reason to know, to my sorrow. Come ! I 230 King or Knave will bet you have counted the shots as they have been fired since the siege opened, for, as you know, every one adds to the security of your debt." "Your Majesty is pleased to speak in riddles," said the miser sulkily, in a quavering falsetto voice. " May I ask you to interpret for a plain old man? " " Ha ! ha ! How diffident you are of your powers of perception ! Well ! If I must read you a riddle, as you call it, though any child might understand it, every shot brings nearer the fall of Dreux. And when the city is mine, the honest burghers must choose between being hanged and paying in good coin for the enter- tainment they have had. To be in arms against one's King and to shut the city gates in his face is a costly species of diversion. They that have danced must pay the piper; and these good burghers will prefer parting with their lucre to dancing again in the air. Do you catch my meaning now?" "Does your Majesty mean that you will have money, if you take this town ? " piped the old usurer in his squeaky voice. " Who said, ' if ' ? I say, I shall take it and shall have money. And I say further that you shall then have yours, principal and interest. Does that content you, old harpy?" Liancourt muttered something about being only a poor man and suffering great hardship in consequence of having to wait for his money. 231 King or Knave But Henry scarcely heard what he said. He was taking great strides up and down the room. Suddenly he stopped in front of the old miser. " Monsieur de Liancourt," he said, " what say you to a scheme that will make you easily the richest man in France?" The other pricked up his ears, but looked' suspicious. " I have a plan for you that will give you infinite opportunities of amassing wealth. You are too old to endure the hardships of following the army. What would you say to the govern- orship of a rich, quiet city, far away from the scenes of war, a cosy place where you might carry on your present honest calling undisturbed and make a handsome sum out of the taxes besides?" Liancourt could not believe that the other was not joking at his expense. His proposition sounded like one of the jibes which were part of his constant experience. He muttered some- thing sulkily about being made a butt " I never spoke more seriously in my life. When I tell you that I have an interest to be served, you will be convinced of my good faith." The miser was instantly all attention. " Listen to me," continued Henry. " You are not married, I believe." " No, Sire. I buried my poor wife, God rest her soul ! near twenty years ago," squeaked the other, with some faint show of feeling. 232 King or Knave " Why, so much the better, man. The good God gives you a chance of making another woman happy. I have my eye on one." " For me, Sire ! " exclaimed the old man with renewed suspicion. "What should I do with a wife ? " "Nothing at all. And therein you will be the most enviable of husbands. You will have all the 6clat of a brilliant marriage, a bride young, beautiful, and admired, without any re- sponsibilities. What say you to that?" By this time it was evident to Liancourt what was the nature of the proposition. The ar- rangement would be nothing new in the annals of royalty. He pondered for some time. Then he said, " What governorship, for instance, does your Majesty offer me? " " Perpignan is vacant, and there is no war there. You might pursue your vocation of fleecing the needy, undisturbed and to your heart's content. There is also Tarascon, a charming spot. How would you like that?" " Does your Majesty take me for a fool, that you think I would let myself be banished to a mountain village, in return for such a service as this ? " piped the old usurer. " Now, if you had said Lyons or Marseilles " "Why not ask for Paris? You would shine as a military governor. With your habits of sumptuous extravagance, you would quickly gather around you, like Joyeuse, all the gilded youth," jeered Henry. " Come, old man, let us 2 33 King or Knave talk reason. I am not demented and do not propose to give away my kingdom for the in- dulgence of a whim. But I am willing to pay a fair price for the service that I need. I will give you a good post, where you will have abundant opportunity of making money. All that I ask of you in return is your name. You will meet the lady at the altar, and be married. So soon as you have given her the right to be called Madame de Liancourt, you will start for your post, and never see her again. What say you?" The other demurred. He was unwilling to give up assured gains for a merely contingent profit, without a cash consideration. The mat- ter was debated at great length between the two, until it was finally arranged that Henry should pay five thousand crowns, out of the money of the burghers of Dreux, in addition to the debt already due to the other. " I shall go, your Majesty, and reduce this agreement to writing and bring it to you for signature," said the wary money-lender. Then, as he was hobbling away, he turned and asked, " What is the lady's name, Sire, that I am to insert in the bond?" "No name whatever. What does that con- cern you ? One lady is as good as another, if only you get your money." " Not so, your Majesty. There are other things in the world than money. I have an old and honorable name to sustain, and it 234 King or Knave nearly concerns me to know on whom I am asked to bestow it. Let me tell you, Sire, there are women to whom the name De Liancourt will never be given for all the money that you might gather in your realm. I must know who and what this lady is : else there is no con- tract." Henry was amazed at this utterance of a man in whom every vestige of the feeling of his class was supposed to be dead. It pleased him, and he replied with more respect than he had hitherto shown, "Your request seems reason- able, Monsieur de Liancourt. But you will be contented, when I assure you, on the honor of a gentleman, that the lady in question is high- born and of unsullied name." "No, Sire, that will not satisfy me. Until I am informed who is the person, no compact between us is possible." Henry paced the room back and forth, un- decided. He was reluctant to reveal so much. But there seemed to be no alternative, if he would secure the co-operation of the man on whom his choice had fallen. And he was too far committed to turn back. He stopped be- fore the old man. " Monsieur de Liancourt," he said with solem- nity, " I am about to deal with you as one man of honor with another. Do you give me your sacred pledge that you will not, under any circum- stances whatever, breathe the name which I shall confide to you ? " 235 King or Knave " You have it, Sire." " The lady is Mademoiselle d'Estre'es." ' " Daughter of the Baron of Cceuvres ? " " The same." " It is an ancient and honorable house. I close with your offer." With a parting injunction from Henry to observe the most absolute secrecy, the old man shuffled away. But other ears than his had caught the name of Gabrielle d'Estre'es. The Sieur de Thouars was a needy gentleman of the South who commanded a small troop of horse. A rumor that this company was, with some others, to be organized into a regiment, had drawn him to the King's quarters, in the hope of having some private talk with his Majesty on the subject, under the conviction that nobody was so well fitted for the new com- mand as himself. It chanced that, when he reached the head- quarters, Henry was absent on a tour of the trenches. His visitor, lounging in the reception- room, found the time hang heavily. Through a door opening into an inner chamber, he observed a couch which looked very inviting. With that freedom of manners which marked the environ- ment of the democratic Henry, Thouars stepped into the chamber, closed the door, threw him- self on the couch, and was soon fast asleep. After a long nap, he was aroused by voices in the adjoining room. His ear caught the 236 King or Knave shrill, quavering notes of Liancourt's voice, which had for him certain painful associations. Instantly he was on his feet, full of curiosity to know what was the usurer's business with the King. He tiptoed across the floor and, with his ear at the keyhole, overheard the conversation. As the talk progressed, his interest grew, and not even Liancourt's desire to know the lady's name was greater than the eavesdropper's. With his ear pressed against the keyhole, he strained every faculty to catch the secret. When Henry pronounced the name, a great light dawned upon him. He rose from his knees, stepped softly across the floor, passed out through an opposite door and disappeared. 237 CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH How the lady who laughs at the spell gently warns Gabrielle of the grievous ill that is wont to betide damsels dreaming of the Fleur-de-lis. IT was the evening after the unexpected meet- ing of Gabrielle and Henry. The former sat in her private sitting-room, pondering the situation, when Lisette came in with an air of mystery, and handed her lady a note which she said had been slipped into her hand by a man who was waiting in the kitchen. It ran thus : LIGHT OF MY SOUL, How good is God in bringing us together here ! I take it as a manifest sign of His blessing on our love, and my heart overflows with gratitude. I have a communication of the greatest importance to make to you. We must have a private meeting. May it not be to-morrow evening? Give me a rendezvous, place and hour, and make me the happiest of men. Yours forever, H. Gabrielle expected something of the kind. And this anticipation had given her much con- cern. Now she was called to take a step beyond any that she had yet made. The clandestine 238 King or Knave interviews at Coeuvres had, at the least, begun without her concurrence. But to deliberately appoint a rendezvous, and that under another's roof, where it behooved her to be extremely guarded in her conduct, was a quite different matter. She had reasons, moreover, for be- lieving that her hostess's principles on this subject were somewhat inflexible ; and she was naturally very averse to running the risk of incurring her disapproval. " Bid the fellow begone. There is no answer," she said peevishly. Lisette lingered. She read indecision in her mistress's manner and she longed to expostulate. But she knew the imperious lady whom she served too well. To attempt to dissuade her would be to fix her in her resolve. Accordingly she left the room, but to do what she thought the situation demanded. She had her own reasons for wishing the lovers to meet secretly, and she would not let slip this chance of bringing them together. No sooner had the maid left her presence than Gabrielle regretted her haste. France was full of pretty women ready enough to console such a lover. How foolish to risk throwing a suitor, no- toriously susceptible, into the circle of some less scrupulous woman's influence ! She wished that Lisette would return. Why did not she wait a little longer? In a very few minutes the maid came back. That astute young woman divined the conflict 239 King or Knave in her mistress's mind and foresaw the issue. Already her inventive genius was at work in devising expedients for furthering the plans of the lover in whose success she was so deeply interested. She entered the room with a care- less air. "Well, the fellow is gone, I suppose," said Gabrielle with assumed indifference. " No, Mademoiselle. He seems to be in no hurry to be off. After I had given him your message, he settled himself to a drinking-bout with some of the men. I dare be sworn he will not budge while a drop remains." From this report Gabrielle correctly surmised that Lisette had detained the messenger. This was what made her invaluable as a lady's maid. She knew the value of indirection. And in lying she was an artist. Had she said bluntly, " I have kept the man, until you will have changed your mind," her mistress would have been furious. But this method of announcing the same thing soothed her pride. Presently Gabrielle said, as if she were think- ing aloud, "If only there were some place where we might meet." She knew that Lisette had guessed the tenor of the note. " Yes, Mademoiselle, if only there were," she answered demurely. In a minute or two she exclaimed, as if sud- denly inspired, " Oh, Mademoiselle, there is the old chapel." " Who would think of such a place for a 240 King or Knave rendezvous?" said Gabrielle scornfully, but at heart delighted. Then Lisette eagerly urged the advantages of the chapel. It was on the ground-floor beneath Gabrielle's apartments, so that it might be reached without passing through any other part of the chateau, there being a private staircase leading to it ; while, also, a visitor could be ad- mitted without attracting attention. Gabrielle was not slow to see the advantages of such a place of meeting; and the result of their conference was, that she wrote a few lines, unsigned, bidding her correspondent come, on the following night, at ten o'clock, to the chapel door on the south side of the east wing of the chateau. The next morning the two ladies sat together embroidering. Madame de Guercheville had given much thought to the subject of Gabrielle's meeting with Henry and had decided on a line of conduct. At a pause in the conversation she asked abruptly, " Would you suppose, my dear, that I have quite recently been the subject of his Majesty's assiduous attentions?" Gabrielle started and turned pale under the penetrating gaze fixed upon her. With some difficulty she recovered herself and stammered, " Why not, Madame ? Beauty and grace, they say, always command his homage." "Oh, little flatterer!" the other laughed. " One could easily imagine that you have taken lessons from him in the art of pleasing." 16 '241 King or Knave Gabrielle's color changed quickly with guilty confusion. She stammered, "What ! I, Ma- dame? You jest, surely." Then, with a strong effort to recover herself and to divert the con- versation to a less awkward theme, she said, " You have aroused my curiosity. Now, surely, you will gratify it. I am dying to hear how the King wooed you." "Well, the story is not a long one, and it may be that it will profit you to hear it. Last fall I was surprised to receive a visit from his Majesty, as he was passing northward with his army, falling back before the superior forces of the League. His affairs then seemed quite desperate, and one would have imagined that he would have no thought for a woman, espe- cially one whom he had not seen since she was a child. But with this extraordinary man gallantry seems quite the chief object in life. So he came to see me, gay and debonair after his wont, and at once assumed a manner of pro- found admiration. Indeed, he professed himself from the first moment hopelessly enamored and poured forth a profusion of gallant speeches. " As for me, I gave him all the deference of a loyal subject, but my attitude never was other than that which I expressed when I told him, 'It may be, Sire, that I am not high-born enough to be your wife, but for aught else I am not low-born enough.' " " Oh, what a beautiful sentiment ! " Gabrielle exclaimed with rapture. 242 King or Knave " Then he hinted of a marriage, after a di- vorce should set him free. Whereupon I only laughed, for I have heard that he is prodigal of such promises. They cost him nothing, while there are those who are foolish enough to be- lieve them." In spite of a strong effort to look indifferent, Gabrielle paled and was conscious of a move- ment of the muscles of her face. "But he is not easily rebuffed. When he moved on northward, I fancied that, with the army of the League close at his heels and his crown and life in peril, I should quickly be driven out of his thoughts. Nothing of the kind ! Imagine him writing to me from the trenches at Arques, no doubt on the very eve of battle, for the same messenger brought the tidings of his amazing victory. Hold ! I will read it to you." She rose and went to an escritoire, unlocked a drawer and took out a package of letters. Meanwhile Gabrielle made prodigious efforts to control her features and assume an air of cheerful indifference. Her hostess seated herself, took a letter out of the package, and read as follows, "My mistress " " The audacious wretch to address you thus!" Madame de Guercheville, amazed at such an expression applied to her sovereign, but secretly pleased notwithstanding, looked reprovingly at her hearer, then continued her reading, " I write you this word on the eve of a battle. The 243 King or Knave issue is in the hands of God who has already ordained what it is to be and who knows what is expedient for His glory and for the well-being of my people. If I lose it, you will never see me again, for I am not the kind of man to run away. But if I die, my penultimate thought will be of you, my last of God, to whom I commend you " ("Wretch ! " thought Gabrielle. " How much sweeter and tenderer is that letter than the one which he wrote to me from the same place ! ") " From the hand of him who kisses yours and who is your servant while life endures. HENRY." The elder lady looked at the younger. There was a bright spot in either cheek, and her eyes glittered with suppressed anger. Her emotion was too vehement to be simulated or to be hidden. " Do I weary you, child, or would you care to hear more?" " Surely, Madame, I find your story deeply interesting." " I paid no heed to the letter, but, neverthe- less, one day there came another. Ah ! here it is." As she took up the second, she passed over the first to Gabrielle, with the remark, " There ! You may see how a king writes when he plays the fool." To Gabrielle how familiar was that hand- writing ! 244 King or Knave Then her hostess read aloud. The letter was couched in the usual impassioned language and ended with the words, My universe, love me as he who will adore you to the tomb, loves you. On the truth of this I kiss a million times your white hands. HENRY. With suppressed fury Gabrielle listened through to the end. To her how familiar were these phrases ! How many millions of times had her white hands been kissed on paper ! The perfidious creature ! Madame de Guercheville finished her reading and looked fixedly at her hearer. She was pale, her eyes glittering, her features rigid. " I call it an infamy," she burst out, " that he takes advantage of his kingly position to thrust his attentions on a lady who declines them." " You would think that I sufficiently discour- aged them, would you not? And yet there is more to tell, the boldest stroke of all. " One day, a few weeks ago, he was hunting in the forest in this vicinity. Purposely, I think, he found himself, at evening, separated from his courtiers and far from any habitation suitable for his entertainment, except this. Then he sent a gentleman to me to say that he craved the favor of a night's lodging. Of course, I sent him a message of welcome. " How was I to meet such an emergency? 245 King or Knave You shall hear. The time was short, but I made prodigious exertions to give him a truly royal reception. I ordered a feast prepared. I sent out and invited neighboring gentlemen. When the King arrived, it was already dark. He found the chateau blazing with lights. He advanced through a double row of my people holding torches. I met him arrayed in my court dress and my jewels and attended by a group of gentlemen. He was bewildered by such a reception. It was our first meeting since his great victory, and probably he thought that this greeting foreshadowed his success with me. '"What do I see?' he exclaimed. 'Is it indeed you, Madame? And am I that once despised king? ' " I led him within and to the door of the apartment destined for him. Then, with a pro- found reverence, I withdrew. A little later he heard that I had descended to the courtyard and was getting into my coach. He rushed out in dismay. " ' What, Madame ! Am I driving you from your house?' " ' My house is yours, Sire. Wherever a king is, he should be supreme. I, too, love absolute power, and so, while you reign here, I shall go where I shall be obeyed.' " He protested vehemently, but nothing could shake my resolution, and I drove away to a friend's house, leaving him to partake of the mag- nificent repast which I had prepared, but deny- 246 King or Knave ing to the busy court gossips the feast which otherwise they would surely have enjoyed at the expense of my good name." " Madame, you are wonderful," exclaimed Gabrielle with genuine admiration. "Who but you would have thought of so ingenious a way of reconciling your duty as a subject with your honor as a woman ? " "Yes, my device served its purpose so well that it relieved me of the King's importunity. Until he came here two days ago I neither saw nor heard more of him. But the poor man is not without consolation. He is not of a nature to pine long. You know of his latest gallant enterprise ? " "What? No! I " stammered Gabrielle, flushing, and then turning deadly pale. " Indeed I supposed you acquainted with the story, since it concerns a kinswoman of yours. Pardon me for intruding on delicate ground." " Oh ! " said Gabrielle immensely relieved, " do not give yourself any concern on that score. I know little of my relatives. There have been reasons why my father has preferred that I should know as little of them as possible." She said this with reference to the notorious fact that the reputation of her female kinsfolk on the maternal side was uniformly bad. It was safe to repudiate them. " Oh, then you will not mind my story. Marie de Beauvilliers is your cousin, is she not?" 247 King or Knave " Yes, Madame. Her mother was my mother's sister. But I have not so much as ever seen her. I have heard of her, however, as a little what shall I say? frivolous." " ' Frivolous ' is a somewhat mild description of one who no sooner appeared at court than she was enrolled in the Queen Mother's Flying Squadron." " Is it possible ? " exclaimed Gabrielle, with well-feigned horror, though the circumstance was well known to her. " On account, perhaps, of her inclination to a life of pleasure, her family seem to have thought her safer in monastic seclusion than amid the temptations of the great world. At all events, she took the white veil and professed religion in the Benedictine convent of Montmartre. Imme- diately she was made Abbess Coadjutrix of the institution." "What? Impossible, Madame! She is but a child. I know her age, since we have at Coeuvres a record of all the branches of the family. She is two years younger than I, and, as you know, I am but eighteen." " These things are done, my dear, when one has high influence. And so it came to pass that this young lady who found herself in a con- vent neither because of penitence nor of piety, but because her family willed it so, was set to be an example of godliness and devotion and to rule women, many of greater age than her mother. Perhaps, however, in spite of the 248 King or Knave deadly tedium of the conventual life for one whose heart was In the world, the young abbess would have deported herself decently and avoided public scandal, had it not chanced that she was thrown in the King's way. Last autumn, when he assailed Paris " " Pardon me for interrupting you, Madame. You have not mentioned the Countess de Guiche. Since my childhood I have always heard La Belle Corisande's name mentioned with that of the King of Navarre. I thought," she added, with great appearance of simplicity, " that it was likely to be a life long relation, a sort of marriage." " What are you dreaming, child? A life-long relation with a man to whom a new love is less of a novelty than a new coat, for, sooth to say, it is more easily had. A coat costs money, of which he has little enough : a new love may be had for words." " Not always, surely, Madame, as you have yourself proved." " It is rarely otherwise, when the words are a king's. But let me answer your question about the Countess de Guiche. Her sun has set. Poor soul, it was not her fault that, as she grew older, for she is, if I mistake not, two or three years older than he, she became stout and red-faced and her skin coarse. It was a fatal fault in the eyes of one who values beauty supremely and whose taste inclines more and more to the girlish type. Time and separation 249 King or Knave effected the rest. And La Belle Corisande, in spite of all her devotion to him, through the years of his obscurity and adversity, and her sacrifices for the cause, was forgotten." " Infamous ingrate ! " " A cheerless outlook, you will doubtless think, for the next comer. It was enough for him, in this condition of mind, to encounter fresh and youthful charms. His heart was like the sere grass of autumn, which a spark sets in a blaze." " And yours, Madame, were the bright eyes that set it afire." " Oh ! my faith, no," laughed the beautiful marchioness with a dazzling show of her white teeth, " his alleged infatuation for me was too brief and too sharply checked for me to be counted in at all. No, the next serious affair was that of which your cousin was the heroine. " When the King assailed Paris last autumn, before the attack on the faubourg of Mont- martre, the abbess of the convent of Benedictine nuns sent a message to him imploring a guard for the protection of the house. He readily sent one. After his troops had carried the suburb, thinking to wile away an idle half-hour, he went to pay his respects to the abbess. Imag- ine his surprise when, instead of a venerable dame, he found your young and beautiful cousin, her eyes alight with the love of pleasure, presiding over the sober flock ! Their admira- tion, it seems, was mutual from the first. He 250 King or Knave paid immediate homage to her charms. She replied with compliments to his valiant achieve- ments and with raillery at the expense of his fat and slow adversary. What her eyes had begun her wit completed " " The wretch ! " At that moment how she hated her cousin ! " Soon his Majesty was deeply enamored. And she, it seems, was as fast in the toils as he. Her passionate longing for the gay world drew her towards him as if they had been born for each other. So they talked on, their eyes flash- ing messages of sympathy which they could not utter in words, since others were within hearing. Suddenly there was an alarm. The vanguard of the army of the League was entering Paris on the North side. The King must hurry away. Reluctantly he tore himself from his fascinating hostess. But in the moment of their parting they exchanged meaning glances. That night there was a clatter of hoofs under the convent windows. The guard had been withdrawn, and the poor nuns looked out in terror. Imagine their dismay, when they saw a group of men clustered about the door and clamoring for admission ! They had heard frightful stories of the sack of convents, and they imagined a terri- ble fate awaiting them. Then there was parley- ing in an undertone through the grating of the door, and while they still awaited developments with trembling, a cloaked figure of a woman came forth and was lifted to a horseman's 251 King or Knave crupper. Then the troop rode away. The good souls were filled with admiration for their young abbess, when it was rumored that she had offered herself as a sacrifice, on condition that the convent be spared." " Shameless hypocrite ! " " But their opinions changed, when they heard that she was at Tours, his Majesty's head- quarters, had thrown off her ecclesiastical habit, and was shining as the brightest ornament of the royal household." " What unspeakable wickedness ! Only two monsters of profligacy could do such a thing. Think of his abducting a religieuse ! Does she remain with him ? " " For some time she did. But lately I have heard that, in consequence of the scandal and the indignation of good Catholics, he had sepa- rated himself from her and had sent her away to Senlis." There was little more said. Madame de Guercheville was well pleased with the result of the conversation. Gabrielle's expressions of virtuous indignation left no doubt of her high ideal of feminine honor. Most of all was the marchioness pleased with the feeling she had aroused against Henry. It would effectually obliterate any sentiment of admiration which an inexperienced girl might possibly entertain towards her picturesque sovereign. Gabrielle left the room smiling and curtseying to her hostess, as etiquette demanded. In her 252 King or Knave chamber she found Lisette making a show of being busy. " Go away. I do not want you," she said petulantly. Then she threw herself down and gave way to her feelings in a passionate burst of tears. How humiliating was her situation ! Of course Madame de Guercheville's story was intended for her benefit. How much did she suspect? Certainly she knew nothing. But the lesson had been given so kindly it was impossible to resent it. Henry was the object of her wrath. He had dared to trifle with her ! All the while he was wooing her with passionate phrases, he was making love to other women, especially that infamous cousin of hers. And the offer of marriage of which she had made so much in her castle-building, he had freely tendered to other women. The perfidious creature ! Who could trust such a man ? While she had been dreaming at Cceuvres in fancied security, her dearest hopes had been constantly imperilled through his fickleness. Then a reassuring thought came to her. She would see him that night. Whatever might have been in the past, the future was before her. This was her grand opportunity. She must not fail to use it aright. There must be no senti- ment. She must act with shrewdness and nerve. She must sound him, probe his heart, ascertain his real sentiments, and, if she found her hold on him as strong as she believed that she had 253 King or Knave made it by her past denials, she must bind him irrevocably. She must play a bold and strong hand that night. With this resolve, she rose, washed the traces of tears from her face, and shortly returned to her hostess with her habitual smile. 254 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST How Gabrielle meets the Fleur-de-lis secretly and, dazzled by its brilliancy, makes a fool's bargain, whereupon she is much elated at her shrewdness. THE next evening all was dark and still, when the two women, hooded and muffled against the cold, stole softly, candle in hand, down the stair- way into the chapel. It certainly was not such a trysting-place as an ardent lover would have selected. It had long been disused, and a melancholy air of neglect pervaded it. The feeble rays of the candle scarcely more than revealed the walls of panelled oak, black with age and heavily over- laid with dust, and the grim effigies of genera- tions of knights and ladies of La Roche-Guyon, whose virtues were rehearsed in undecipherable inscriptions. At the upper end the altar of stone, long since stripped of its furnishings, stood rude and bare as its primitive prototype. Above it hung against the wall a large crucifix, coarsely carved in wood, black with time. A musty odor filled the place, and the air was damp and piercingly cold. Without, a sharp wind blew and shook the window-sashes and 255 King or Knave grimy diamond-shaped panes in their worm- eaten casements. The environment suited Gabrielle's mood. She had come in no light vein, but in a most serious and business-like frame of mind. She looked around, therefore, with a certain degree of satisfaction upon the gloomy and almost sepulchral aspect of the place. It would help to redeem the meeting from any possible levity. While the two women, shivering, were cast- ing their eyes over the grim memorials which the piety of by-gone ages had reared, a light knock was heard at the door. Lisette slipped back the bolt, which she had that day provi- dently oiled, and admitted the muffled figure of Henry. It was perhaps the strangest love-meeting which that experienced gallant had ever taken part in. The environment certainly was the re- verse of sensuous, and, whatever may have been his own temper, he was soon made to feel that his mistress was in no mood for sweet dalliance. In vain he signalled imploringly for her to dismiss her maid. She was inexorable. All that she would concede was to go with him to the sanct- uary end of the room, leaving Lisette shivering and hugging herself near the door. She set the candle on the altar and, facing him, said briskly, "Now, will your Majesty be pleased to be quick? I cannot long endure this deadly cold. You wrote of having an important communication to make. What is it? " 256 King or Knave " Yes, fair Gabrielle, my heart well-nigh bursts to utter its " " Hold ! If you please, we will dispense with these pretty phrases. I sufficiently know your bursting heart. Let us deal with facts. Before we go a step further, I must be answered on one point." She fixed him with a stern eye and set features and asked in a low, hard voice, " Where is the Abbess of Montmartre, whom you shame- fully abducted?" Henry was staggered. He had not dreamed that this incident had come to her knowledge. " With her parents," he stammered. " On your honor? " " I swear it, Mademoiselle. It was but a pass- ing whim, an illusion, if you will, and I quickly sent her away." " You mean that the anger of your Catholic gentlemen compelled you to part with her." " Have it as you will, Mademoiselle. She is gone. Is it not enough?" " Enough for what? Enough to assure me of your constancy, which you once told me was your only vice, and of which your letters make incessant boast, those letters which you have dared to write to me even while this crime continued ? " Henry hung his head like a rated school-boy. " What assurance, more binding, mark you ! than your word, can you give me of your future constancy? If I consent to listen to you again, how shall I know that I am not to 17 257 King or Knave be betrayed for the next pretty face you may meet?" "I have it here, Mademoiselle, all ready, the spontaneous offering of my heart, in a form which cannot fail to satisfy you on every point. It is all that the highest-born lady in the land could ask at her nuptials. Listen and judge." While saying these words, he eagerly drew forth and spread out a document. Gabrielle shuddered when she saw that it was written in blood. They talked under their breath, to the intense annoyance of Lisette, who strained her ears to catch what she could. She gathered only that her mistress was speaking very sharply and the other in a tone of humble deprecation. Now, when she saw a paper produced, she was furious. Evidently something quite different from that which she had wished to promote was afoot. Sidling slyly a step or two nearer, and with body bent towards the speakers, she stood attent, eager to catch the purport of the paper. Only a word here and there came to her ears ; but plainly it was some sort of agreement. Was it possible that he was giving her a written pledge? May he be damned to the bottom- less pit ! It was not for anything like this that she had manoeuvred to bring them together in secrecy and at night. Meanwhile, holding the document with his left hand close to the candle, while with his right he emphasized the leading points with gestures, 258 King or Knave Henry read its contents in a low, intense tone, as follows : " IN THE NAME OF GOD AMEN ! " We, Henry, by the grace of God King of France and Navarre, do promise and swear, on the faith of a knight and the word of a king, to the Mademoiselle Gabrielle d'Estrees, of the chateau of Coeuvres, that, in consideration of the said Mademoiselle d'Estrees consenting to live with us as our companion, we shall hold ourselves bound to her and to her only during the life of us both, as if a marriage had been duly solemnized between us ; that we shall accord to her full recognition and honor as our consort ; and that we shall bestow on her a title and an estate and maintenance suitable to her dignity. " We do further promise and swear by every means in our power to seek a divorce from our present con- sort ; in order that the way may be open for a lawful marriage between us and the aforesaid Mademoiselle d'Estrees according to the rules of her Church, to be duly and publicly solemnized, and that, in the mean time, we shall defend her good name and honor against all the world, in like manner as if she were our legal spouse. "And hereunto on the Holy Evangelists we do solemnly swear. HENRY." With great devoutness he recited the closing words, lifting his right hand in attestation. Gabrielle's cheek flushed and her eye bright- ened. Who could have dreamed that things would shape themselves so exactly according to 259 King or Knave her wishes? But in an instant she repressed every sign of satisfaction. Apparent reluctance was her policy. He must plead hard for her consent. Moreover, she missed in the contract the things which had been uppermost in her mind. Gaston's preferment was still in the air, and the idea of binding herself to Henry, 'in the present indecisive stage of his affairs, was preposterous. She drew back and shook her head. " Why do you hesitate, Gabrielle ? What wife in the land is half so well protected ? " urged Henry in low, earnest tones. " See ! In every point your well-being and honor are most amply considered." Then with his forefinger he followed the lines, expatiating on each clause with impassioned earnestness. He concluded, " There, you see, is every feat- ure of a regular marriage, saving the Church's blessing, which, also, I solemnly bind myself to obtain at the earliest possible day. And what is lacking in that particular I make up by my sacred oath on the Holy Evangelists." Still Gabrielle declined, half out of simulated reluctance, half because she felt a real hesita- tion to commit herself in this irrevocable way. Besides, she had a lurking distrust of this agree- ment. Could he be sincere in offering so much? Might it not well be that this magnificent con- cession was a Greek horse ? She took the docu- ment, scanned it carefully, and handed it back, 260 King or Knave shaking her head. She distrusted so much generosity. Henry urged his supreme argument, " See, Gabrielle ! The good God assures us His bless- ing. For it is surely Providence that has brought about this meeting in this sacred place. Here, before the altar, I give you my troth as solemnly as in holy matrimony. No priest could make this engagement more binding than I freely make it by my oath as a Christian knight. It only remains for you to do the like. Do you accept me as your spouse in the sight of God?" He fixed his eyes piercingly on her. A brilliant thought came to her. Why not accept this contract conditionally, making it binding on the other party, but dependent for its completion on her own will? The influence of the place, too, was strong upon her. She could not doubt that an agreement made there had a peculiarly solemn character. Henry read wavering in her eyes. While once more she scanned the paper, he bared his arm, pricked it with his dagger-point, and, pro- ducing a pen, dipped it in the blood. Then he thrust the quill into Gabrielle's hand. She spread the paper on the altar under the eyes of the carven Christ and, pale with cold and fright, her hand shaking and her teeth chat- tering, guided the spluttering pen across the page in an almost illegible scrawl. When she had finished, Henry caught up the 261 King or Knave paper and eagerly read her addition. His face fell with keen disappointment. " Ah, the cruel condition ! " he exclaimed. She had written beneath the words, " Ac~ cepted and agreed to by me," which he had pre- pared for her signature, " on the condition, that my brother be given a regiment immediately, and on the further condition, that this contract do not go into effect until his Majesty shall have defeated Monsieur de Mayenne in a decisive engagement and broken up the League." How exasperating was this obstacle to the realization of his hopes ! In vain he argued, pleaded, coaxed. She was inexorable. On that point her will was adamant. She would not think of giving herself to a man of uncertain future, king by right though he might be. The one thing which in her judgment could justify the step she contemplated was his success. In the mean time let him give an earnest of his intentions by at once promoting Gaston. " Those are the terms on which alone I am willing to sign," she said resolutely. " Will you have my signature ? " Henry shrugged his shoulders and nodded a reluctant assent. She took the pen. "I have sworn. Will not you swear?" he asked. She looked up to the crucifix, bowed her head reverently, crossed herself and muttered some words, inaudible to the other. Then she took the pen and wrote her signature* 262 King or Knave Lisette, following the transaction closely from her post of observation, saw herself defeated, gnashed her teeth and stamped. Henry would fain have sealed the matrimonial compact with a conjugal kiss. But she repelled him very curtly. " Excuse me. Your Majesty seems to have forgotten that our agreement is not yet in force and does not confer any immediate privileges. "Who keeps this paper?" she asked. " It is yours to keep, adorable Gabrielle. It is your title to the half of France," said Henry in his grandest manner. This bit of gasconade caused Gabrielle's lip to curl. She laughed sarcastically. " That re- minds me of the absurd extravagances that you addressed to me, when you first came to see me, disguised as a woodcutter. How ridic- ulous you were, to be sure ! " Then she added demurely, " May I exchange this title to a half of the realm for just one estate in immediate possession?" Henry winced under her sarcasm, but held his ground bravely. " Oh ! " he said, " there is one point of which we have not spoken. Have you no curiosity to know what your name will be ? " " What does your Majesty mean ? " asked Gabrielle, in sheer astonishment. " I mean your name as a married lady," re- plied Henry. " Have not I sworn to care for your honor ? It would argue little regard for propri- 263 King or Knave ety and small concern for your good name, if I should fail to provide you with a husband. As a married lady, you will enjoy a freedom of action and an immunity from scandal which, as a single woman, you could not expect. Besides, in the estimation of the most censorious, the noble name of D'Estrees will thus not be tarnished." Strangely, this point had never occurred to Gabrielle. Now she felt her cheeks tingle with shame at the infamy of the proposed arrange- ment. "Do you mean that you dare to suggest to me to marry some other man, with the delib- erate purpose of betraying him ? " she asked, eying Henry sternly. " Only a marriage of convenience, an empty ceremony, a show of marriage, without any reality," Henry pleaded deprecatingly. " Pro- priety demands some concessions ; and in your interest I have planned this arrangement, which will give you the cover of an honorable name and the freedom which only a married lady en- joys. So soon as the ceremony is over, I pack the quasi groom off to a distant post." " It seems to me that your Majesty has been somewhat premature in providing a nominal bridegroom for a marriage so remote," said Gabrielle haughtily. " It may be that his ser- vices will never be needed, and his honorable name run no risk of being sullied, so far as I am concerned." 264 King or Knave " God forbid ! " said Henry simply. Evidently Gabrielle was in no mood to be crossed. But, though she would not admit it, she was secretly pleased with the arrangement should it ever be needed. It was quite the regular thing, she knew, for a king's mistress to be somebody's wife. She resumed, "What if the creature should not prove so submissive as you expect, and should demand his rights?" " Oh ! that danger, believe me, is well guarded against by choosing a man of the right kind." " And could a creature be found so abject as to accept such infamy?" "He has been found, a most worthy gentle- man of Beauce, and immensely rich, but a trifle elderly and out of health. Oh ! he will not give us any trouble on that score. There is nothing of the lover in Monsieur de Liancourt." Gabrielle's eyes blazed. " Do you mean that this shameful scheme is actually agreed upon between you? And have you dared to name me to this wretch?" " I have not so much as breathed your name, adorable Gabrielle, but only bound this gentle- man, in consideration of certain valuable induce- ments, to accept the wife of my choice, under the terms aforesaid," replied Henry meekly. She was appeased, but she could not let him off so easily. As a parting shot, she remarked, " It seems that your Majesty is favored with very complaisant friends. Am I to take this 265 King or Knave worthy gentleman of Beauce what is his name ? Liancourt, did you say? as a type of the circle in which you invite me to move ? " The hero of Coutras and of Arques and Dieppe winced, but meekly held his tongue. " Now that this important business is con- cluded," she said airily, " there is no sense in our lingering in this deadly cold. I am ready to dismiss your Majesty." Henry took his imperious mistress's command in good part. Kissing her hand, he whispered, " Within a few days I shall take Dreux. That done, I shall chase Mayenne into a corner and crush him and his League. Then, beautiful one, the happiest man in France will hasten to your feet. Else I die on the field. Either I return to you victorious, or you will never see me more." Gabrielle smiled coldly incredulous and turned away, while Lisette, nearly frozen and utterly enraged, opened the door for the departing lover. 266 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND How the Last Enemy of All appears as Jean Fourcadis friend. ONE bright, frosty morning Fourcade sat moodily in front of the fire in his lodging. A sense of the helplessness of his position op- pressed him. More than two weeks had passed beyond the time within which his messenger should have returned. Still he came not. The blast of a horn, followed by the eager yelping of hounds, startled him from his reverie. From his window, which looked on the village street, he saw a hunting party coming down the hill, in all the bravery of gay attire and the pomp of the chase, with clanking of steel and the sharp ring of horses' hoofs on the frosty air. The most conspicuous figure was that of Made- moiselle de Rebours, who rode attended, as usual, by her enamored cavalier. Her costume was perfect. A close-fitting habit of blue cloth, trimmed with silver emblems of the chase, set off admirably her fine form. From a baldric of embroidered silk hung an exquisite toy bugle of silver studded with emeralds, the latest gift 267 King or Knave of young TreVille. Her abundant hair, like shin- ing bronze, was swept back and gathered into a Grecian knot and covered by a velvet cap of the same color as her habit. The cap was secured by a pin the sight of which sent a pang to Fourcade's heart. Its device was a lion's head, holding a stone in its mouth. Sitting her horse, a bright chestnut Spanish barb, with easy mastery, she reined him in and flicked him with her riding-whip. The spirited animal pranced and curveted, while her haughty eye glanced disdainfully over the humble folk clustered in the street or hanging out of window, to see the lordly pageant go by. The spectacle of this woman's insolent triumph in the hour of his deep depression was more than he could endure. The narrowness of his lodg- ing fretted, and the keen morning air invited him. He seized a staff and went forth. Nature at once stimulated and soothed him. He took another direction than that of the hunting-party. Soon the occasional note of the horn became faint, then died away. He was be- yond the reach of all that recalled that hated woman. He wandered on and on, fascinated with the reviving vigor and calm strength of Nature. In this atmosphere his mind seemed clearer and more dispassionate than when he was fretted by the sights and sounds of Usson. Nature's order and repose renewed his confidence in the eternal Right. A purpose was shaping itself in 268 King or Knave his mind. If, within two days more, he should receive no tidings from his master, he would seek the parish priest, lay his case before him, and invoke his help. At the worst, he could but fail. But the mien of the man and his general repute inspired him with confidence. This decision gave him great relief, and he turned his face homeward with a sense of new strength. The winter sun was low in the sky, when he approached the village. He paused on a little eminence overlooking it and mused. Opposite him was the castle, its walls and turrets lighted by the setting sun, while at its foot, in the shadow, clustered the red roofs of the village, mellow in the purple light. How peaceful and beautiful was the scene ! Those roofs and towers, lifting themselves from the shadowed valley into the glorious sunlight, might have been battlements of the Heavenly City. With that scene before him, Fourcade could entertain no bitter or vengeful feeling. How many, he reflected, are like rudderless ships, tossed helpless by mighty forces that launched them, freighted with ancestral vices, on the per- ilous ocean of existence, and that fling them hither and thither, the sport of the winds ! Without Sophie, would he be better than one of those frivolous revelers? Perhaps, if he knew it all, even the Rebours's story would move his pity. An orphaned child- hood, it might be, unsheltered by a mother's 269 King or Knave care. Then the depraving influence of the great, on whom she depended. Who might know what struggles she had made against the first approach of evil; in what insidious guise it had sought her ; by what insensible gradations she had sunk into a career of intrigue; and how gradually outraged conscience had been stifled, until it was paralyzed? His resolve was taken: he would deal with her firmly, exposing and thwarting her intrigue, but without rancor. The holy calm of the even- ing had banished revenge from his heart and left only a steadfast purpose. Just as the sun sank behind the western hills, and its last ray tipped with gold the topmost towers of Usson, a single stroke of a bell rolled 'slow and solemn on the still air. A pause, then another mournful stroke. It was the church bell tolling for a passing soul. In- voluntarily Fourcade uncovered and breathed a silent prayer that God would speed the parting spirit to peace. Then he resumed his way into the village, calm and cheerful. He noticed signs of unusual excitement. Here and there people were talking together eagerly in groups. He asked what it meant. A lady, one of the hunting-party, fearfully in- jured, had been carried by on a litter. He in- quired her name. None knew. But a woman spoke up. The injured person, she said, was covered by a great cloak, but she had caught a glimpse of a blue robe and a mass of bright 270 King or Knave hair. A choking fear seized Fourcade. Could it be she ? And that passing bell ! What if by delay he had frittered away the golden opportunity which Providence had placed in his way, and she had died, with his secret locked up in her bosom? He hurried frantically along the steep street. He asked of one and another villager the name of the injured lady. None knew. Then he en- countered a man whose dress showed him to be from the castle. He seized him by the arm and hoarsely demanded her name. The fellow shook him off roughly, with the insolence of his class toward the village folk. "What does that concern you, clodhopper?" " My God ! it touches my life." The varlet gave him a keen look, "Are you, perchance, the stranger whom I was sent to seek here to-day?" Fourcade gasped, " What ! I was sent for ? By whom?" " Mademoiselle de Rebours, surely. By whom else?" growled the fellow. "Some time after she was brought in, they say she asked to see a man lodging below here, a stranger, no name given. And they sent me, God's blood ! on this fool's errand, to find a man whose name they did not know. I have ransacked this whole dirty kennel, to no purpose. Now here you come, when it is too late." His last words were wasted. Fourcade was running with great strides up the hill. 271 King or Knave " Come back ! Don't you hear? She 's dead, I tell you, fool ! " the varlet shouted after him. The other heeded nothing. A man tried to detain him. Not stopping to recognize him, he would have run by. The man seized him, whispering in his ear, "What ails you? Don't you know me, comrade?" It was Gilles Du Pre returned from his mission. " She sent for me sent for me I tell you," said Fourcade, wrenching himself loose from the other. " Here, then. Take this, madman. You have waited long enough for it, God knows." He thrust into his bosom the packet which the other forced on him, and hurried on his way to the castle. " Ho, there ! Stand back ! " cried the sentry, stepping forward from the darkness of the arch- way and bringing his pike to the level of the intruder's breast, "Who are you? And what 's your errand ? " " Is she dead? Truly dead?" "Dead as the salt fish of Lent, by all reports," said the soldier stolidly ; " though, faith ! she was alive enough, when she pranced through this gateway this morning. And a merry dance she would have led our pretty innocent, if the good God had n't taken pity on him." Fourcade reeled. This the end of all his waiting ! This the reward of his patience and his faith in the everlasting Right! While he 272 King or Knave moralized, she was slipping away into eternity, leaving his life blasted ! Hold ! Perchance she had left some message, confided to some one the burden of her guilty soul, as she faced death. " I would see the Queen of Navarre," he said hoarsely. " I am the man whom they sought in the village to-day." " Baptiste ! " called the sentry to a soldier who came forth from the guard-room, yawning and stretching himself, " here comes a bump- kin who wants to see the Queen of Navarre. Says he 's the one they made such a pother about to-day." By this time the varlet who had been in search of Fourcade came up, breathless and swearing. " Pass this idiot in with me," he said. " For all that he's too late, I'll take him to the Queen." Fourcade followed his guide through the archway across the court-yard, up a flight of winding stairs, along a corridor, and into a small room fitted up as a boudoir. In a few moments the Queen of Navarre entered. Great changes had befallen this woman of many loves. An evil life had stamped its damn- ing marks upon her, and he saw scarcely a trace of her once fatal beauty. Was this stout, over- dressed woman, with her flabby cheeks, her puffed eyelids, her hair stained from its natural brown to a meretricious yellow, and her face pale 18 273 King or Knave with fright, save where the paint lay in patches, was this the Marguerite of Valois whom, in the zenith of her youthful charms, he had seen married to his master? She looked wonderingly at him. He bowed. " Do you recognize Jean Fourcade ? " he asked in a low tone. At the familiar voice she started and clasped her hands. " My God ! Is it indeed you ? And are you, Jean Fourcade, the stranger whom my poor Angelique so piteously asked to see, before she died? Oh! I remember I remember "and she gazed at him intently, clasping her hand against her forehead, as if some vague memory connected these two persons in her mind. Fourcade listened breathlessly. But she seemed unable to catch the thread of associa- tion and only looked in his face with an expres- sion of vague questioning. " Did she did she give you any message, any word, for me?" he faltered. " Not a word, not a syllable." Fourcade tottered to a chair. Everything reeled around him. All was dark, his last hope gone. " Stay ! I have an idea," said the Queen, and she hastily left the room. She quickly returned, accompanied by the faithful parish priest of Usson. " This is he," she said, pointing to Fourcade. The priest looked at him with keen scrutiny 274 King or Knave and then bowed stiffly to the Queen and said, " I must beg your Majesty to do me the favor of leaving us alone." When the door was closed, he turned on Fourcade the same penetrating, but not un- kindly, glance. " Your name is " " Jean Fourcade." The priest nodded. " And you serve " " Formerly the King of Navarre, now King Henry the Fourth." The priest frowned and pressed his lips together, but nodded again. "You knew the lady who has died here to-day?" f< I knew Mademoiselle de Rebours, alas ! too well." " Had you aught to complain of at her hands?" " That wretched woman, Father, God keep me from speaking of the dead one word beyond the bare truth ! has blasted my happiness by a cruel lie." The priest raised his hand deprecatingly, but nodded again. " You have been hereabouts some time. I have seen you in the village. Why have you not earlier made somebody, myself for example, acquainted with your story?" " Consider the circumstances, Father. I have been alone among strangers. Nobody would have believed my statement, unsupported. I 275 King or Knave have waited for proofs. They have even now reached me." And he drew forth the packet brought by Du Pr6, its seal unbroken. " Hold ! " said the priest quickly. " It is needless. You have said enough to convince me that you are he whom I seek. Now listen to me. A strange thing has happened. The great God has interposed marvellously, to right your wrong." Fourcade caught the back of a chair and steadied himself. The priest continued, " You have had reason to feel bitterly toward the Church. She has been made the innocent abettor of a great crime. Now it is her privilege to undo the wrong. That unhappy woman, in the mercy of God, had opportunity of repentance and yielded to the Church's discipline. I shall not detail by what steps she was led to a full confession. Enough that she could receive no absolution, save on condition of making complete reparation. You were sent for, that, in the presence of witnesses, she might avow the wrong she had done you. You were nowhere to be found. Then I received her dying commission to take all steps needful for your vindication." Fourcade could find no words, so strange and sudden was the turn of affairs. The priest continued in the same incisive manner, " Trust me. No words are needed. I know all. The Church will use her power to restore to you her who should have been your 276 King or Knave wife. Wait you here, while I write what will be needful." Then he disappeared. Fourcade sank down upon a chair, speechless. With what startling suddenness the clouds had rolled away! Sweet visions of Sophie and of bright days to come rose before him. His meditation was interrupted by the en- trance of the Queen of Navarre. Pale and agi- tated, she was moving about the castle restlessly. It was a relief to talk to Fourcade. He was a link connecting the present with a brighter past. She told him the story of the day's disaster. Mademoiselle de Rebours had ridden forth that morning in high spirits and in a more than commonly reckless mood. At one point the road crossed a bridge that spanned a brook flowing between steep banks. Suddenly leaving the highway and her companions, she cried, " Follow me, who dares ! " There were shouts of warning. In vain. She struck her horse sharply with the whip and dashed straight for the bank. The spirited animal rose with a mighty effort and cleared the distance. But the opposite bank, loosened by frost, gave way under his hind feet. He strove with violent plunges to gain the level ground, while the on- lookers cried out in dismay, then toppled back into the bed of the brook upon his hapless rider. When the terrified company reached the spot, the poor beast, trembling and snorting, was struggling to his feet and trampling the crushed form lying in the shallow water. From her 277 King or Knave mouth issued a stream of blood, dabbling her long hair hanging in disorder. Mutilated and dying, she was borne away on a litter of boughs. "Would you see her?" Marguerite asked presently. Fourcade followed his guide through a long corridor to a room at the door of which stood an attendant on guard. The chamber was dark, save only tall candles burning at the head and feet of the dead. Like alabaster shone the face and the taper hands, clasped over a shroud of black velvet. Under the soothing touch of death the haughty features were settled in an expression of repose. The abundant tresses, gleaming like burnished cop- per, rolled back from the white brow and gath- ered in heavy braids, formed a cushion on which rested the head, turned a little aside, as in sleep. Fair as a beautiful saint chiselled in marble, peaceful as an infant hushed on its mother's breast, lay Angdlique de Rebours. As Fourcade looked, there came up the memory of another woman whose end was sudden and violent. The livid and distorted features, hanging by a garter in a squalid garret, rose before him. What a contrast ! Here death was robbed of half its terrors. Looking on that face, could he forget how often it had been lighted for him with the evil smile of triumphant hate? Even plainer she stood before his mind's eye as she appeared in that last interview, humbly suing for forgiveness. 278 King or Knave It smote him that he had refused it. But, thank God ! he had conquered the spirit of revenge, ere she died. She had passed away forgiven. Did she know it now? A slight movement called his attention to a figure which he had not previously observed. It was that of a youth sitting with his head buried in his hands, while at times his body heaved with a deep shudder. Poor boy ! A great grief had suddenly come to dignify his life. Four- cade noiselessly retired. Presently the priest entered. There was something benign and paternal in his manner, as he handed to Fourcade a sealed letter, saying, " Take this, my son, and go your way. The per- son to whom it is addressed will do for you all that I should under like circumstances do. I have written the fullest information and have made a request which will not be disregarded." Fourcade started. The letter was addressed to the Superior of the convent at Auxerre ! Sophie was there then ! . He had not erred in his conviction that her self-abasement would lead her to seek the door from which she had once turned in resentment. But that stern ecclesiastic what could he expect from her? The priest noted his look of dismay. "Never fear," he said. " Difficulties will vanish. The Church charges herself with righting the wrong you have suffered. Go in faith and hope, nothing doubting. God speed you, my son, and give you peace ! " Then he vanished. 279 King or Knave A little later Fourcade was taking leave of his master's wife. " Wait a moment," she said. " In my dis- tress I have almost forgotten something." And she left the room. Presently she returned and gave him a small sealed package addressed to Mademoiselle Roberval. She faltered, " She gave it to me saying, ' Send it to her to whom it belongs. May it do her as much good as it has done me harm ! I wore the accursed pin for the first time to-day ; and it has brought me to my death.' " Do you know," she continued, speaking low and eagerly, " there was something about it that I cannot understand? Angelique never was superstitious. Yet she acted about this trifle as if the sight of it terrified her. At her bidding, I had unpinned it from her cap. When I held it up, she almost shrieked, ' Take it away ! Out of my sight ! How it glares at me ! ' Then she talked of a load on her mind, and she was in mortal fear of dying before the priest should come." Fourcade received the package with a shud- der. Its contents he easily guessed, and, in spite of himself, he shrank from the contact with that which was so intimately associated with bitter memories. 280 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD How Gabrielle, beginning to be disenchanted, rues her bargain and is exceeding sore and sorrowful, until she is comforted by the coming of him whom she loves. THE next day after the meeting with Henry in the chapel Gabrielle experienced a strong reaction. Now that the irrevocable step of binding herself by oath was taken, she bitterly rued it. As she now held, the compact took away her freedom, while it gave her nothing sub- stantial in return. The mere contract she would have had no hesitation in repudiating. The evi- dence of it was in her possession, and she would have destroyed it without compunction. Or, at all events, she believed that she would. But there was the oath ! That bond alone held her fast. Repent it as she might, that ob- ligation was registered in Heaven, and it bound her by all that there was of religion in her nature. All that she could hope for of immediate re- sult, in return for the freedom she had surren- dered, was her brother's advancement. And that point had so shrunk in her estimation, in comparison with the rest at stake, that she 281 King or Knave scarcely desired it. Nay, she hoped, almost prayed, that it would not come to pass. Fail- ing the immediate fulfilment of that condition, she would be at liberty to repudiate her provi- sional consent and would be discharged, in the sight of God, from her oath. Sick and sore at heart she was, as she looked back at the transaction of the preceding night. In the cold light of day, and in her depressed state of mind, she was amazed that she, com- monly so little influenced by sentiment, had been led to take part in an affair so melodra- matic. As she recalled the strange scene, she could almost have persuaded herself that it was a dream, so unreal it seemed. But there was the writing, ominously traced in blood, to re- mind her of its reality. And, more than all, there was the memory of her rash oath. How she cursed her folly in being so easily duped ! She felt, also, an intense yearning for the friends and associations of her childhood, for the innocence and purity of the happy years, ere this clandestine intercourse with a dishonor- able suitor had come into her life. Naturally, Louis was much in her thoughts, since he stood for those better influences from which she had now perhaps forever sundered herself. There was a melancholy pleasure in recalling his appearance, his voice, his manner, his sentiments, all expressing the true, generous, high-souled man. She only now realized that she deeply loved him, and that all her recent 282 King or Knave course was an outrage against that love and against herself. Unquestionably the influence of Madame de Guercheville was a powerful factor in producing this reaction. In some way unaccountable to Gabrielle, this lady had made her feel that the ideals which she cherished were contemptible. Her sweet, wholesome womanliness was a con- stant silent rebuke of her own false and sordid views of life. Day after day it had dawned more clearly upon her that her lovely kins- woman lived in a world far above her own. She found herself longing for the mental atmosphere in which the other moved so serenely and beau- tifully. If she were not so fatally committed to the path she was treading, she would even have thrown herself on her goodness and un- burdened her heart. But of what avail was it to ask help now, when she was beyond mortal aid ? God, to whom she had sworn, could alone release her. So it was a gloomy day for Gabrielle, a day filled with bitter regrets and impotent longings. A strange metamorphosis had come over her. She was conscious of the change; and, since deliverance seemed impossible, she could only hope that this overwhelming depression would pass off and leave her to tread her chosen path to the end. She was sitting thus in sombre reverie, when her hostess burst into the room with a bright smile, saying, " Come, Gabrielle, dear ! Who 283 King or Knave do you think is here ? Why, your brother, child, and with him a most charming young fellow, a Monsieur de Bellegarde." The quick flush in the girl's cheek apprised Madame de Guercheville that, for the second time, her visitor was no stranger to Gabrielle. It had seemed to her singular that her guest, while knowing her brother to be near, had shown no wish to see him. The truth was, that Gabrielle had almost dreaded such a visit. She knew that Gaston would be likely to bring his friend, and she had shrunk from encountering Bellegarde. Now, when her thoughts had been full of him all the day, he had come ! She heard the announcement with strangely mingled feelings, partly of embarrassment and partly of joy. She dreaded facing him, and yet she longed for it. Conscience made a coward of her, but her heart yearned for light and hope and, most of all, for love. When she entered the reception-room, her self-consciousness did not escape the quick eye of her alert hostess. Nor did the latter fail to note the eager kindling of Bellegarde's eye, as he caught sight of Gabrielle approaching. Fortunately Gaston was in high spirits, and his affectionate greeting of his sister, followed by a stream of questions and remarks, served to cover Gabrielle's embarrassment and give her time to compose herself. This was the first occasion, he explained, when it had been possi- 284 King or Knave ble for him and Louis to leave the army ; and he had much to tell and to ask. He was enthu- siastic in his praises of the King, who was the hero of a whole series of anecdotes and stories relating to the campaign. He had not seen his sister since he had entered on an active military life, and all the experiences of the past few months were pressing to be told. While Gaston ran on in this impulsive way, the lady of the house was making some reflec- tions. She had seen enough to convince her that there was some reciprocal feeling between the other two. Like every genuine woman, she had in her nature a strong tincture of sentiment, and already she had woven out of the slender materials in her possession a whole romance, in which an enamored and libertine king, a lovely and pure-minded girl, and a handsome and hon- orable suitor were the actors. To baffle the royal profligate and, at the same time, to make two loving hearts happy, was what her womanly nature prompted. From the first, Louis's good looks and prepossessing manners had enlisted her interest. Convinced now that Gabrielle's happiness, perhaps her honor, was at stake, she had no doubt as to the path she should follow. Her resolve was quickly taken. She would give the young lover every opportunity pos- sible ; and, since the occasions of his coming must necessarily be rare, she would begin im- mediately by letting him talk with Gabrielle alone. In doing thus she had the entire ap- 285 King or Knave proval of her judgment, since the young man in question had all the recommendation of good birth and honorable position, and was, besides, the most intimate friend of the lady's brother. She did not doubt, therefore, that her intended procedure was such as Gabrielle's father would approve. She formed on the spot a plan of campaign. " Come, Monsieur d'Estr^es," she said pres- ently, " I should greatly like to have your opin- ion on some changes which I purpose making in the chateau, with a view to strengthening its defences. Such a precaution, in the present condition of the country, seems necessary. Will you go with me?" Gaston, proud of the appeal to his military judgment, gladly accompanied her. The lady's ostensible object was soon accom- plished. Then she let her real motive be seen without disguise. They had come into a cosy boudoir flooded with the light of the afternoon sun and cheerful with such dainty objects as a woman of refinement is wont to gather around her. The hostess took a seat and motioned to her guest to do the same. " Come, Monsieur d'Estres," she said, " I am greatly interested in your friend, Monsieur de Bellegarde. Will you tell me something about him? Have you known him long?" Gaston was delighted to be treated in this confidential way by a charming woman, and re- sponded gladly to her inquiry, the more because 286 King or Knave he divined that her motive was other than the gratification of curiosity. He could not speak of Louis without enthu- siasm, and the presence of this lovely woman stimulated him to more than usual communi- cativeness. He talked freely of his and Louis's friendship from their boyhood, and eloquently extolled the other's high qualities. He paused. The evident sympathy of his hostess invited him to go on. He spoke of Louis's life-long love for Gabrielle, reciprocated by her, he was sure, but denied expression solely on account of his father's opposition. This attitude, however, was due wholly to his friend's poverty and former obscurity. Now, he was confident, since Louis had received marks of the King's favor, with the prospect of a brilliant career, the sole objection to his suit would be removed. As her brother, he might venture to say that no alliance could be more welcome to the family. The kind heart of Madame de Guercheville was deeply touched. In the first instance she had been greatly moved by the old baron's pa- thetic picture of his daughter's motherless state. It had seemed to her a deplorable thing, that a girl should come to womanhood in so great iso- lation from equals of her own sex and deprived of the guidance of a mother through the perils of her age and station. Most gladly, therefore, she had opened her doors to her. Her concern for her charge had been deep- 287 King or Knave ened by the episode of Henry's visit. She began to realize that there were subtle and dif- ficult elements in the task which she had under- taken. The girl's marked reticence on that subject was far from reassuring. It might well be that in her unsheltered life she had encoun- tered the fascinating monarch in some relation which, should it be continued, boded no good for her future. She entertained a deep aversion to Henry's conduct towards her sex and natu- rally dreaded for Gabrielle the continuance of an acquaintance which already involved some concealment. Now, therefore, she felt deep joy in learning of a mutual attachment between her and a young man apparently so estimable as was Bellegarde. It lifted a great load from her mind, in clearing the young girl of any possible suspicion as to her past. It also made her own duty plain. What Gaston told her explained, in a way highly creditable to her, his sister's ap- parent indifference to meeting him. Undoubt- edly, she had feared that he would come accompanied by his friend, and, as an obedient daughter, she had felt herself bound to refrain from encouraging the visits of a suitor whose addresses were not acceptable to her father. This, then, was the reason of Gabrielle's de- jection, so noticeable on that very day. Poor child ! What she must have suffered in know- ing that the man she loved was so near, and yet conscientiously denying herself the joy of meet- 288 King or Knave ing him ! Such a splendid young fellow, too ! Who could wonder at a girl's loving him? In favoring Bellegarde's suit she felt that she would be acting in the spirit of the baron's ex- pressed wishes for his daughter. Under like circumstances, he would undoubtedly take the same course. In that particular Gaston's assur- ances fully confirmed her own judgment. Thus, happy in well-doing and full of tender sympathy, Madame de Guercheville entertained Gaston, while the lovers were alone together for the first time in many years. Louis was not slow to seize the precious opportunity which a kind human providence had placed in his way. Had he believed that Gabrielle's disregard of his advances was the dictate of her own feelings, self-respect would have kept him from urging his suit. But, fully convinced that his only difficulty lay in the baron's attitude and in his daughter's sense of duty, he did not scruple to make the most of the golden chance. It behooved him to speak quickly, for he did not know how long his opportunity would last. Without preliminaries, he poured out his long pent-up feelings in a passionate declaration of love. He pleaded his years of devotion. He dwelt on his sufferings through her silence. Since her attitude towards him was the result of a mistaken sense of duty, he urged her to be true to herself and to let her heart speak. Encouraged by the unmistakable tenderness 19 289 King or Knave in her eyes, he dared to take her hand. She did not withdraw it. He pressed it. He covered it with kisses. Borne on by the unexpected happi- ness of her surrender, he poured out the utter- ance of his love in an impetuous torrent. Gabrielle gave herself up wholly to the rapture of loving and being loved. In the strong re- action from her other suitor and after the miser- able dejection of the day, this experience came like warm sunshine bursting in upon wintry night. What cared she for the future ? For the present it was unutterably sweet to listen to the music of Louis's voice murmuring the story of his love, the only love of his life, and to feel his breath caressing her hair and through his hand pressing hers the thrill of reciprocal affection. Doubly dear he seemed now, when she had signed away the right to call him hers. She was intoxicated with the ecstasy of surrender. Once only the thought of Henry flitted through her brain, and it brought a burning blush to her cheek. How different from the other's was Louis's approach, at once so tender and so respectful, by its faith in her appealing to the higher elements of her being, while Henry had succeeded only in calling into activity its lower side ! Gabrielle's was an ardent nature. She was capable of loving intensely. Her whole being craved love, passionate, boundless love. She had long famished for it. The attempt to force her inclinations into a false channel, at the dicta- 290 King or Knave tion of mercenary considerations, had failed miserably. It had starved her heart. Now the pent-up forces of her ardent being burst their flood-gates and fairly swept her away on an ocean of delight. Without reckoning of time or aught mundane, she floated on that boundless sea. Eternity was in those moments. Con- sciousness itself was almost lost in the ecstasy of self-abandonment. It was all that she asked of life, that he was there, and each was the other's. Louis, too, was in a delirium of joy. Gabri- elle's unexpected and absolute self-surrender; the sweet submissiveness of her attitude; the color coming and going in her cheeks, the soft love-light in her eyes, the bosom heaving in slow and deep swell, the beautiful hand clinging to his with thrills responsive to the emotions he expressed, it seemed incredible. Was this indeed the Gabrielle who had denied him the least sign of love? In this yielding mood how exquisitely winning she was ! He pressed for some confession of her love. She shuddered, and her hand trembled in his. Her compact rose like a spectre out of a dim past. But she laid it with the thought, that the bond was conditional, and perhaps its provisos would never be fulfilled. All her being was absorbed in the present. It was enough to love and be loved. To have Louis for her own, there, on the spot, leaning over her, touching her, pressing her, their two souls merged in one 291 King or Knave ecstasy what more could she ask of life than this? Now let her die, ere the spell be broken ! She sank back into her rapturous self-abandon- ment. Her eyes filled. " Oh ! Tell me, Gabrielle, my adored," Louis urged, " tell me with your sweet lips what your eyes confess, that you love me." Still there was no word. Only the bosom heaved with a deeper inspiration; the hand resting in his trembled ; and the eyes closed, as if she were in a trance. Again he pressed for some word from her, " Speak, darling ! Our time is brief. At any moment we may be interrupted. Tell me that you love me and that you will be mine. Speak, dearest, I entreat you." In vain. It was as if her body was there, beautiful, warm, pulsating with the abundance of its passionate life, but her soul far away in some ethereal sphere. In truth, she was floating, intoxicated, on the borders of consciousness. Louis pressed nearer yet. His breath was on her cheek. Unresisted, he touched it with his lips, and, at the contact, the hot blood burned beneath the velvet skin. His arm encircled her. He drew her yielding form to him, and her head sank on his shoulder. The sound of steps rapidly approaching was heard. Louis sprang to his feet and retired a pace or two. Gabrielle started up, as if awaking from a dream, and turned pale. Gaston burst into the room, crying, in his 292 King or Knave impetuous fashion, " Come, Louis, we must hasten. There is not a moment to lose. A man, just now come in, brings word that the army of the League is marching in full force against us and is already in Mantes." " Impossible ! " exclaimed Bellegarde. "When Mayenne was last heard from, he was several leagues to the east of Paris." " That may be. But this man is willing to swear that he saw the Leaguers with his own eyes, and that, as he came out of Mantes, their vanguard was marching in." " Let us go and see for ourselves," cried Louis. " If this report be true, the King should know the fact immediately." Gaston's tidings had struck mortal terror to his sister's heart. The spell of her dream was broken. She had yielded herself to its rapture, in the hope that the fulfilment of her hateful engagement might be indefinitely postponed, perhaps forever avoided. So long as the main condition was unperformed, she was free. Her prayer would have been that the League might live forever. But now, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, had come the awful news that the crisis was at hand. Would to God, it might yet prove to be a false rumor ! She cast a glance of anxious inquiry at Louis. He looked grave. Gaston was bustling about, preparing for instant departure. Louis seized the moment for a whispered entreaty, 293 King or Knave "Your answer, darling? One word ! " How could she reply? But how could she send him away without a word? Trembling and with quivering lips, she fal- tered, " All will depend on the issue of the next battle," words full of delightful promise to Bellegarde. At this moment the hostess entered the room, and the young men hastened to take their leave of the ladies. With a heart full of sweet hopes, Louis pressed to his lips Gabrielle's fingers, cold, as he fancied, through apprehension for himself and her brother. Then they rode away. They spurred towards Mantes. But before they came within sight of that city, they had full confirmation of the report which had been brought to the chateau. From an eminence they descried, in a village below, a body of horse, evidently the vanguard of the Leaguers, easily recognized by their ensigns. Beyond, across the whole width of the valley the main army wound its tortuous way, like a great serpent, the level rays of the sun reflected from thousands of gleaming pikes and lances. Mayenne was surely marching to the relief of Dreux. 294 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH How the King gives Gaston high promotion, whereat he is much elated, and how another schemes to bring his pride to a fall. WHEN Louis and Gaston dashed into camp, they rode straight to the King's quarters and gave him the first tidings of Mayenne's approach. He was at the first inclined to doubt the accuracy of their report, so improbable it seemed. They assured him that they had veri- fied the rumor and had themselves seen the enemy. He thanked them warmly for the ser- vice they had rendered in so promptly bringing the intelligence. " By the way," he said, " I have an announce- ment to make to you, Monsieur d'Estr6es, which will scarcely be displeasing. I have at last accomplished a measure which I have some time had in contemplation. Orders have to- day been issued for uniting several independent bodies of horse into one regiment. In seeking an officer for its command I have not known where to find one worthier of that honor than yourself. I have the honor of saluting you colonel of the new regiment of cavalry." Gaston could scarcely credit his ears. He dropped on one knee, seized the King's hand 2 9S King or Knave and kissed it, with thanks which were hardly audible for his embarrassment. " You will have as fine a regiment as any in my army," continued the King. " There is the Gascon company of the Sieur de Thouars, the Poitevin company of the Count de Villequier, Barbazon's company from Saintonges, and three or four others. And I have assured these gentle- men that they will have a gallant commander. You must expect some restlessness. These are Huguenot gentlemen, and they would have pre- ferred to serve under one of their own faith. Some of them, too, are old campaigners, and they have been disposed to think that my choice should have fallen upon one of them. I have taken the full responsibility of answering for you and have pledged them my honor that you will respect their faith. As to the rest, it remains with you to reconcile them to their disappointment by your courage and wisdom." In point of fact, the companies which Henry had so highly extolled were some ill-disciplined fragments, full of insubordination; and there had been a violent explosion, almost amounting to mutiny, when the announcement was made of Gaston's appointment to command them. Old captains who had followed Henry in his earlier campaigns, swore that he was losing his brain since his accession, and that he showed his folly in putting a boy over the heads of veterans, and his apostasy to the faith he was sworn to defend, in preferring a Catholic to his co-religionists. 296 King or Knave " The damned young popinjay ! " said De Thouars to another of the malcontents, " he will not long enjoy his distinction. You will see me pluck his fine stolen feathers." " I would almost wager that there is a woman concerned. When our Henry makes a fool of himself, there is always a petticoat somewhere at hand. You remember how, after Coutras, he threw away all that we had fought for, by riding off, pardieu ! to lay his trophies at the feet of La Belle Corisande," said the other. " Corisande's star has set. Who rules the sky now? I have heard of mysterious rides in the direction of Mantes. What say you? " " Wait. You will see," replied De Thouars, nodding mysteriously and pursing up his mouth. But of all this Gaston was happily ignorant. He could scarcely sleep that night, so full was he of his new dignity. A colonel, and that, too, on the eve of a general engagement ! Louis shared his friend's happiness with the most generous frankness. A meaner nature would have been moved to envy by remember- ing that Henry's promise of advancement made to him on the field of Arques was still unre- deemed, and that Gaston's services had been confined to taking part in a few skirmishes. That night all was excitement and activity in the trenches around Dreux. The tidings of the coming of the army of the League had been quickly circulated, and the royalist troops were keen to meet the foe. All night there was 297 King or Knave moving to and fro in preparation for quitting the trenches on the morrow. Dreux must be relinquished, that greater game might be struck. It was scarcely light, when the bugles sounded, and, with the coming of day, the astonished burghers saw the trenches empty and the beleaguering camp broken up. It was a proud moment for Gaston, when he rode to the head of his regiment, as it took its place in the column of march. What ambitious dreams were realized in that happy hour ! How he wished that, at that instant, his father and Gabrielle might know of his honor and share his triumph ! What visions of gallant deeds to be done rose before him ! How proudly he would lead his men to victory ! He could not fail to notice the supercilious manner of some of his officers, who hardly deigned to give him the greeting of common courtesy. But what mattered it? He would soon teach them that he was no fledgeling, and when he had shown them, on the field, of what stuff "a D'Estrees was made, he would challenge any man to dispute his worthiness to command. The reported approach of the hostile army was, by this time, fully confirmed ; and Henry was, as usual, eager and joyous in anticipation of a conflict which would have given pause to a less daring spirit. That Mayenne would not have ventured to seek him without vastly greater forces was a foregone conclusion, but one which not in the least daunted him. 298 King or Knave Now the royalist column was in full march, hastening to reach the Eure, where Henry pro- posed to dispute the crossing with Mayenne, when videttes, sent out during the previous night to watch the approaches, galloped in with the tidings that the enemy's vanguard was already across the stream. This circumstance necessitated a change of plan. Accordingly the royal army took position on the plain of St. Andre, between Nonancourt and Ivry. At the same time the Leaguers were coming into view. By nightfall the two armies confronted each other. Throughout that long day, while the royalist forces were hastening to meet the army of the League, and our two young men were full of eager anticipations of battle, there was gloom at the chateau of La Roche-Guyon. Louis and Gaston had not been able to report the result of their reconnoissance to its inmates, but had posted straight to camp with their startling tidings. Ample confirmation of the rumored approach of the Leaguers had, how- ever, come to the ladies. The chateau lay at a distance of three miles from the highway between Mantes and Dreux, and, from time to time through the day, country-folk came in with appalling stories of the number and formidable character of the hostile troops. To the fright- ened peasants the swarthy, bearded Spaniards seemed countless and unspeakably terrible, and 299 King or Knave the Walloon cavalry, on their ponderous horses, were a race of giants. The wildest rumors be- came current. As the foreign troops, of differ- ent nations, poured along the highway, hour after hour, jabbering in their strange, outlandish tongues, the simple folk imagined that all the peoples of the earth were assembled in an unnumbered host, to crush their King and his army. The ladies of the chateau could not but be disturbed by these reports. No doubt they were exaggerated, but it might well be that Mayenne had gathered such an army as the King, with all his skill and courage, would find it difficult to cope with. This was the appre- hension that weighed on the mind of Madame de Guercheville, ardent royalist as she was. But what profoundly depressed Gabrielle was the certainty that the decisive conflict was at hand. Just when light and joy had come into her life, and when all her hope was staked on the postponement of the crisis, the issue sud- denly loomed up before her in startling near- ness. 300 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH How Jean Fourcade finds his Sophie. IT was a bright winter morning when Jean Fourcade struck the ponderous knocker of the convent-door at Auxerre. For all his high hopes, he felt a certain sinking of the heart as he heard the well-remembered sound echoing sonorously through the wide, empty hall. When the Abbess met him, there was on her face a look of recognition, but she made no sign and she seemed sterner than ever. He simply handed her the priest's letter and bowed, saying, " From Father Damien at Usson." Then with a beating heart he watched her face. The mention of the good priest's name evidently impressed her. But Fourcade was scarcely prepared for the transformation which he witnessed. As she read, interest deepened into amazement. When she had finished the perusal, she was another woman than the austere ecclesiastic. " Monsieur Fourcade," she said, " from my heart I wish you joy and welcome you here. Truly the hand of God is apparent in this thing. 301 King or Knave From this letter it is plain that you are a true man who has suffered grievous wrong. It may be that I have seemed harsh to you. I meant only to be just. Now I shall do all in my power to make amends to you for the past. This I shall do the more gladly because of her who should have been your wife and who has been an inmate of this house more than two years. That sweet creature is most tenderly loved by us all. She has won every heart among us. It will be joyful news to every soul in this house that the atrocious falsehood that has over- shadowed her innocent life and blackened yours is exposed. Ah ! how gladly we shall serve as God's instruments in restoring you to each other ! Once more from my heart I wish you joy of this happy issue out of all your afflic- tions." And she wrung his hand with warmth. Was it possible? This from the stern woman who once had turned him from her door as a scoundrel ! There are moments too sacred, emotions too deep to be portrayed in words. Let us not attempt to tell how Sophie received the strange, the amazing tidings which the Abbess brought to her ; how the sweet creature listened, trem- bling, to the wonderful contents of Father Damien's letter, and then sank upon the bosom of the other ; how the Abbess folded her in her arms and wept softly with her, this stern woman, so remote seemingly from all human interests, and tenderly stroked her hair, feeling in her 302 King or Knave own bosom a certain unwonted, wistful move- ment, a faint stir of the undying instinct of motherhood ; nor how Sophie fell, with a little cry, into Jean's arms and sobbed on his shoulder and strained him to her overflowing heart ; nor how he who had met all his trials with an un- faltering front, poured out his heart in a flood of tears as he embraced this dear creature, for so many years the object of his adoring love, his guiding star, now restored to him, her early faith justified. Let us leave them to their sweet communing, as the hours speed by on golden wings. Once Sophie left Jean for a moment. She returned and placed in his arms a sturdy infant who looked wonderingly at this strange, bearded being whom he saw for the first time. " Our boy ! " she sobbed, with tears at once of gladness and humiliation, and buried her burning face on her husband's shoulder. He, clasping mother and child together to his heart in joy too deep for words, first knew what depths of abasement she had trodden for his sake. The hours of that wonderful day fled swiftly by and the sun was sinking, when there was an unusual stir throughout the convent. Two by two the sisters, silent after their wont, but not sad, filed into the chapel. All the day long the dove-cote had been in a flutter. First some rumor had crept abroad among them of the marvellous thing that had come to pass. 33 King or Knave Then their superior had called them together and related the amazing story of the good priest's letter. And their simple hearts had been filled with great joy for the sweet woman who had lived among them as a sister and who, bound by no vows, had been an example of the virtues to cultivate which they had fled the world. Now the chapel-bell summoned them at an unusual hour, and they rightly surmised that they were assembled to witness the conclusion of the wonderful drama. Jean seemed to be in a dream, as he, the strenuous Protestant, stood before the altar blazing with lights and received his bride at the hands of the Abbess who once had rejected his heart-broken appeal. The service ended, the organ burst forth in a joyful strain and a hundred sweet voices swelled the song of praise and thanksgiving to God, while the parting sun, streaming through a rose- window, encircled the wedded pair with a nimbus of golden light. At the same hour when the Gray Sisters of Auxerre were singing with heart and soul the Jubilate Deo, at Usson a solemn cortege wended its way into the church draped in black and thronged with the curious gathered to witness the last pageant in the career of one who living had loved pomp. The mournful notes of the Miserere Domine were wailed forth amid the gathering gloom. Then, to the accompaniment of the priest's solemn words of committal and 304 King or Knave the convulsive sobbing of her mistress and of young Treville, the body of Angelique de Rebours was lowered into the vault which held the dust of many noble generations. Her piety and virtues let none dispute. Are they not recorded to this day in brass on the church-wall at Usson? The Gray Nuns' hymn of joy and praise ended, they flocked around Sister Sophie and embraced her, the most with tearful eyes, all with sincere hearts. Who did not love this gentle creature who had lived among them so beautifully, the patient victim, as they believed, of a man's perfidy; this sister in more than name, who, her own heart torn with pain, ever willingly shared another's woe? As they clung about her with mingled smiles and tears, were there not, perchance, some who felt a wistful sense of a deep want in their own lives, consecrated to celestial aims, a craving for an earthly bliss which they might never know, the holy joy of possessing a true man's love? It may be that, as evening gathered, in many a cell were breathed sighs, not for pale and shadowy sins, but of vain regret for the great, bright world without, with its stormy griefs and joys. Many there were doubtless who would gladly have exchanged for its swirling currents the tideless calm in which their devoted lives were embayed. Twilight was coming on, as Jean and Sophie left the convent. They could not but recall that 20 305 King or Knave other evening on which they had turned from the same door humiliated and angry, but full of trust in each other. Now that trust had been justified, and they walked forth, how elated ! she leaning on his strong arm, while he carried their boy. Fourcade, looking down into the little fellow's face, said, " Sophie, my darling, he has your sweet eyes. Oh ! you have not told me his name." " I have called him Paul for one Paul Sabatier who won my heart long ago, when I was a fool- ish girl." She looked up into her husband's face with a touch of her old archness and pressed his arm. Now they came to the inn where, with Hugue"nin, they had lodged that night after Sophie had resolved to go out into the world under the care of Jean and his friend. Four- cade had sent from the convent to bespeak a modest supper. His messenger had given a hint of the occasion, and the landlady for what woman does not take a sympathetic interest in a marriage ? had resolved to surprise the happy pair with a wedding-feast after her own heart. In a cosy little parlor, with a bright fire crack- ling on the hearth, a table covered with snowy linen and garnished with the proud hostess's silverware of state bore an ample array of smok- ing viands, with a flask of the landlord's choicest vintage. So they seated themselves to their bridal supper. 306 King or Knave " Now Hugu6nin should be here, to share our joy," said Jean. " Dear old fellow, how happy he will be when he hears it all ! I shall see him soon, alas ! " This forecast of the inevitable parting was the only shadow that fell on their gladness. It was by no means a formal meal. The kindly hostess would let nobody serve these guests of honor but herself, and constantly bustled in and out, now and again stopping to play with the baby and casting admiring glances at the handsome mother, all the while won- dering much, but, wise woman ! keeping her thoughts to herself. When the table had been cleared and the landlady had retired, and they drew their chairs up to the fire, Paul sleeping on his mother's lap, was there in all the world a happier group than theirs? Holding Sophie's hand in his, Jean looked into her sweet eyes, and scarcely could believe it true that this brave, tender, ex- quisite woman was his now, beyond any power of mortal man to separate them. How beauti- ful, how god-like she was, this wife of his, her dark brown hair swept back from her smooth brow and framing her oval face in a glorious setting of heavy, shining braids; her large eyes, soft and lustrous as a deer's, reflecting the firelight in their clear depths ! The artless girl had ripened into the matron. The experience of sorrow, like the frost which alone gives to certain fruits their perfect sweetness, had mel- 307 King or Knave lowed her and left its touch on her outward manner in an added gravity, on .her spirit in a wider, deeper sympathy with all who err and suffer. Hers was a nature which disappoint- ment could not embitter, a heart which no poison could taint. Love kept it perennially sweet. Even while she had held herself aloof from her husband, his image had been en- shrined in the secret place of her devotion. So she had borne her bitter trial with infi- nite sweetness and patience, still loving, trust- ing, praying, believing that, true herself to the highest law of her being, yea, of all being, it would be well at last, if not here, then else- where. Adorable Sophie ! Sanctified by the holy sacrament of motherhood, what divine serenity radiated from her ! Jean, gazing in rapture, caught some sense of the Eternal womanly, revered by man since earliest times. In the mother, with the infant sleeping on her bosom, he saw revealed a mystery of the wide world's theology. There, by that fireside, was the pri- meval trinity, the prototype of all the trinities of all the ages. Shall we wonder that Jean lingered day after day with Sophie in the paradise that had been opened to him in a true woman's loving heart? But he must go on. His master's orders, con- tained in the letter which he had received, were that, so soon as he had despatched his own affairs, he should join him at Dreux, which 308 King or Knave he was about to besiege. Now came a startling rumor that a powerful Spanish army was march- ing from Flanders to reinforce Mayenne. He must sink the husband in the soldier and hasten to the colors. The Abbess had gladly charged herself with sending to Monsieur and Madame Roberval, who were living at Orleans, the joyful tidings of all that had befallen. A reply had come ex- pressing the good parents' unbounded joy, with their benediction on their children and a prom- ise to come to Sophie, so soon as they could arrange for the journey. Jean might therefore leave his wife and child in the same secure refuge where he had found them, until he should have opportunity to es- tablish a home. And now he must be gone. For the second time Sophie must send him forth to battle. Let us draw a veil over that tender parting of husband and wife. But one incident we must mention. Jean had reluctantly produced the little package confided to him by the Queen of Navarre. With an agitation which she nerved herself to control, Sophie opened it. There was the little bow-knot, with its fantastic pin; He frowned and she trembled, as they looked at the innocent occasion of so much misery, now restored to them, a silent witness of her guilt who was now in the grave. "Am I am I to wear it again?" he stam- mered. 309 King or Knave " Oh, no, no ! God forbid ! The ill-omened stone ! Here is a token worthier of our love." She hung a locket about his neck. He pressed the spring and saw a miniature of his sweet wife. Her tender eyes indeed, but veiled with what unutterable sadness ! The picture was a revelation to him of the depths of sorrow through which that loving soul had passed. He covered it with kisses and pressed her again to his bosom. " It was made for you," Sophie murmured, " at a time when my heart seemed broken. Little Paul had not yet come to cheer me, and I thought I thought I might never see you more. I wished you to have this little picture 1 as a token that that I died loving you." So Jean tore himself away from the gentle Sophie and their child and rode northward with all haste. His movements were quickened by ever-thickening rumors of a Spanish invasion, and the pain of parting from his bride was almost lost in anxiety lest he should be too late for the great encounter. In the inn at fitampes, where he spent the second night, he met a group 1 This is without doubt the miniature which I discovered among the Fourcade papers. It is reasonable to suppose that it descended to the son born during Sophie's stay in the convent and remained in this line. If this surmise is correct, we have an explanation of Pierre Fourcade's monomania. The stigma of illegitimacy in his ancestry would have been ill borne by one whose absorbing thought was of his honorable lineage, and would easily have upset a mind never well- balanced. THE EDITOR. 310 King or Knave of cavaliers among whom he recognized familiar faces. They were in fact Huguenot gentlemen hastening northward with the same purpose as his. With them he finished the journey on the next day and rode into the camp before Dreux shortly after the announcement of the approach of Mayenne had thrown it into a tumult of excitement. Once more he was on the eve of a great battle. But with how different feelings did he approach it from those with which he had left Sophie on the former occasion ! Then he was full of self-confidence and of eager anticipations. Now he had the calm, deep joy of knowing that Sophie was his. The thought of her tempered his soldierly ardor, while also it nerved him to do his duty the more manfully. But deepest of all was a new-born, thankful trust in God. He felt that a Power higher than human had dealt with him. Now, having passed through the sufferings which he had endured in just expia- tion of his errors, he found himself looking on life with the chastened vision of one who not in vain has been schooled in sorrow. CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH How Louis de Bellegarde, thinking to win Gabrielle, helps to make her bargain fast. A RAW March morning and the friends and foes of France facing each other. Each side had massed its strength for the decisive en- counter. Mayenne had brought all of native military force that the League could rally and a large foreign contingent, besides. A formidable array it was, the most redoubt- able force that the Holy Union had yet put into the field. Besides the French regiments, there were Swiss and German auxiliaries, professional soldiers. And, most of all, there were thousands of the Duke of Parma's veteran legionaries, sent from the Low Countries, to help the cause of the faith, swarthy Spaniards, inured to butchery under Alva's bloody rule, ruthless scoundrels, seasoned in sack and slaughter, in rape and pillage, the most dreaded soldiery in Europe. Then there was a picked body of Belgian horse, led by Count Egmont. The royal army, too, though still greatly inferior in numbers, had received large acces- sions. From far and near the report that the 312 King or Knave League was marching against the King had summoned to his aid every loyal Catholic, every " politique," every fervid Huguenot, who could bear arms. Until after the battle had begun, they came trooping to the colors in groups and companies, bent on having a hand in the supreme struggle. Each commander, too, had his private in- terest. To Mayenne victory meant full control of the League and its dependencies, with the crown in the background. For Henry his kingdom was at stake, his country's freedom from foreign domination, and Gabrielle. Of course, Heaven must be invoked. On one side the austere pastor, Damours, the same who had prayed on the glorious fields of Coutras and Arques, asked the divine blessing on the arms of the faithful. On the other a gray friar advanced to the front and, swinging a huge crucifix, in the name of God and His earthly vicar, excommunicated, execrated, and anathe- matized the army of the heretics, living, and damned it, dead, to the flames of Hell in saecula saeculorum. A discharge of cannon caused this sacred functionary to retire quickly, as if he had small faith in his bans as a safeguard against powder and iron. Just as the battle was opening, Henry did a characteristic thing. At the time of leaving Dreux, a German colonel, Schomberg, had asked for some money for his troops. Henry, who King or Knave had scarcely a sou to bless himself with, had answered him bluntly, " No man of honor calls for money on the eve of a battle." Now he rode up to the brave Teuton and said, " Colonel Schomberg, yesterday I said an insulting thing to you. This day will perhaps be the last of my life. I would not willingly take away the honor of a gallant gentleman. Forgive me, I pray you, and embrace me." Schomberg was overcome. " Sire," he said, " you did indeed wound me. To-day you kill me outright." He spoke truth, for he died gloriously on the field. As Henry was making his final dispositions, Marshal de Biron rode up to him and gruffly asked, " What does your Majesty wish me to do with the new colonel you have made ? " " Oh ! my faith, I do not much care. He and his regiment are not to be trusted in any difficult position. Hold them as part of your reserve," Henry replied. " He is the right sort of stuff to make colonels of. I congratulate your Majesty on your dis- crimination," said the grim old soldier, who, on account of his long services, took even greater liberties than others with a monarch who never stood on his dignity with anybody. The King, far from seeking to conceal his identity from the enemy, had made himself con- spicuous by placing a great bunch of white ostrich-plumes in his casque and another in the headstall of his bridle. King or Knave " Comrades," he said to those near him, " if at any time you lose sight of your ensigns, keep your eye on these feathers. You will be safe in following them, for you will find them always on the road to honor." Now Egmont's Walloon cavalry moved for- ward, to open the battle. Bending low in his saddle; with spurs set in his horse's flanks, and waving his sword with a great shout, the Belgian count led his heavy-armed troopers in a furious charge. The earth trembled under the hoofs of the ponderous Flemish steeds, as they came on in a thundering gallop. " Dastard and traitor, serving his father's butchers ! " exclaimed Henry, recognizing the insignia of the Belgian nobleman. Opposite the Walloons was Chatillon's veteran battalion, the same invincible warriors who had swept the field at Arques. As the heavy horse thundered upon them, they shouted defiantly their battle-cry, " Let God arise and let His enemies be scattered ! " In another moment the fierce charge burst like a breaking sea against the dense array of Huguenot pikemen, while over the shoulders of these the arquebusiers poured deadly volleys in quick succession into the hostile ranks. At the same time the royalist cannon tore long furrows through them. Egmont fell among the first. Their leader lost, the troopers wavered, then broke and retreated in disorder on the support- ing lines. The spaces left between the several King or Knave bodies of the Leaguers for the movements of the cavalry were insufficient, and the fleeing horse- men crowded the infantry battalions into a con- fused mass, unable to ply their weapons. The German reiters met with no better suc- cess. The royalist horse under Givry and Mar- shal d'Aumont, the renowned chivalry of the South, met them in mid career and swept them back into the narrow intervals already choked with fugitives, adding fresh disorder. The vet- eran Spanish infantry were huddled together into an impotent mob. The best foot-soldiers in Europe could do nothing. It was the cavalry who fought and lost the day. Henry was quick to seize the auspicious moment of the enemy's confusion, and led his centre in a tremendous charge against the oppo- site mass. Above the thicket of pikes and gleaming swords the white plumes tossed like foam on the crest of a stormy sea. Hewing himself a path, with a small following, he forced his way into the densest throng of the enemy. The royalists in the rear saw the white plumes waving far in front. They were in- spired with a wild enthusiasm and began to shout the cry that had nerved them on more than one glorious field, " Navarre ! Navarre ! " It was taken up by hundreds of voices, and " Navarre ! Navarre ! " rang out over the din of arms, as the centre pressed forward, carrying everything before it. 316 King or Knave Suddenly came a hush, followed by a murmur of dismay. The white plumes had disappeared. " He is down ! The King has fallen ! " was bruited. So it was indeed. Henry, on the outermost edge of the fray, and almost surrounded by foe- men cutting and thrusting at him, had received a tremendous blow on the head which, in spite of his casque breaking its force, sent him reel- ing senseless to the ground. His nearest com- rades pressed forward and covered his body, and the fighting raged over and around him. The moment was full of peril. Had the im- petuous Southern horsemen, under their revul- sion of feeling, been driven back ever so little, it would have been difficult to re- animate them with the same buoyant spirit. Once in retreat, they would have lost the &an which hitherto had carried everything before them. And the royalist centre broken, the dense mass of the Leaguers could have forced itself like a wedge between the wings and annihilated them at leisure. At that supreme moment there rose a lusty cry, " Navarre to the rescue ! Who will help to save the white plumes?" It came from Belle- garde, who from a little way off had seen the danger of disaster. The response was instantaneous. " I," " I,'* " I," came from a hundred throats, and there was a great surge toward the spot where the plumes had sunk in the tide of battle. King or Knave Louis led the onset, and with irresistible force the assailants flung themselves against the enemy beginning to rally, pushed them back and cleared a space around the prostrate form of their leader. The King's faithful henchman, Jean Four- cade, had removed his casque, to give him air. Now he cried joyfully, " He lives ! The King lives ! " In an instant Bellegarde was on his feet and at his master's side, kneeling over him, and his was the first face that greeted Henry, as he opened his eyes. " Thank God, Sire ! You will soon lead us again," he cried enthusiastically. With a happy inspiration, he seized the casque and its plumes and placed it on a pike-staff. Then he waved it high in the air, shouting in trumpet tones, " The King is safe ! He is well. Forward, comrades ! Charge ! " The effect of this announcement was electri- cal. A jubilant shout rose from the foremost ranks and rolled back, echoed and re-echoed by those far in the rear, who only understood that something especially encouraging had taken place in front. The whole royalist army, animated by one eager impulse, surged forward in a mighty rush and drove the disordered Leaguers helpless before them. Then Biron launched his reserve upon the shattered ranks of the foe and completed their rout. Louis's heart leaped with generous pride, King or Knave as he saw his friend Gaston, at the head of his regiment, sweeping like a whirlwind along the flank and falling upon the enemy. The two comrades had met for a single mo- ment that morning, before the battle began, and Louis had been struck by a fierce irritability in Gaston. The excitement of battle he supposed it to be, increased perhaps by the sense of his trying position as the commander of older offi- cers who would be keen to criticise his conduct in action. Now he rejoiced that Gaston's oppor- tunity had come and he was using it so well. Everywhere the rout of the Leaguers was complete. Mayenne and other chiefs had fled the field, and their followers were slaughtered like sheep. Henry, now fully recovered, was in the saddle again and careering over the field, directing the pursuit. " Spare our countrymen," he shouted, " but give no quarter to the foreigners." The latter injunction was not needed. The infuriated royalists were revelling in carnage. The Spaniards expiated at Ivry their butcheries in Holland. The field was fast clearing itself of combatants. Only the sound of pistol-shots and cries, dying away in the distance, told of the pursuit and slaughter rolling away to the eastward. Bellegarde, who had no stomach for that sort of work, lingered behind. Now he rode up to the King. " Sire," he cried enthusiastically, " I salute King or Knave you King of France, in fact, as well as by divine right. For this day ruins the League and surely seats you on the throne of your ancestors." " Baron of Bellegarde I salute you, for Baron you shall be, I swear, so soon as I am crowned," replied the King with equal warmth. " A thousand thanks, Sire," returned the young man, and, falling on one knee, he seized his hand and kissed it warmly. " You have nobly earned all that I can do for you," said Henry. " By your spirited conduct you have saved the day for us." " And won Gabrielle for myself," murmured Louis, still bending over his master's hand. The words did not escape the other's quick ear. Something like a pang of compunction shot through him, as he looked on this gallant gentleman, honorable and true, whom he had meanly supplanted, and upon whom he medi- tated putting a great shame. 320 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH How Gabrielle, seeking to follow her heart, finds that her bargain binds. ON the plains of Ivry the fortune of France, of Europe, was fighting itself out. A few miles away a conflict not less fierce was raging in a woman's heart. After a night of anxious tossing Gabrielle had risen, early. Oh, that awful day! What was it to her that the fate of her country hung in the balance, so vastly more absorbing was her personal interest in the issue? She could not sit still. She could not fix her thoughts. On the field his life was in peril, that life which, with her re-awakened love, had grown tenfold dearer. With the illumination which she had lately experienced had come an impassioned tenderness for Louis. Oh, that she might throw herself at his feet and expiate her shameful wrong ! How gladly would she shrink away from all greatness ! Better a hovel with Louis than a palace with the other. What a cruel strait she was in ! The King's victory meant her shame ; his defeat, her release. But at what fearful cost ! Every hope of those whom she loved was centred on that day's 21 321 King or Knave success. Its loss would surely mean death to Louis, for that chivalrous soul would never desert his King, and Henry had in her own presence vowed that he would not leave the field alive, save as victor. God in Heaven ! Was no deliverance possi- ble? Yes, if there should be no battle ! One party or the other might shun the final encounter. A merciful Providence might yet avert this dreaded conflict. How impotent was man, how omnipo- tent God ! In a passion of weeping she flung herself on her knees and cried to Him from the depth of her agony. Surely He would be piti- ful to a helpless mortal, to a motherless girl betrayed into a cruel snare. She rose from her knees, went to a window looking towards Ivry and hung out with breath- less attention. All serene was the face of Nature. Heedless of mortal cares the old world rolled on its way. An early herald of spring carolled from a tree- top. No note in his song of the death-struggle waging a few miles away, nor of sympathy with the soul in agony near by. His lay sounded a knell. How ruthless this serenity of Nature, this unchanging order, swerving not to right or left for all the prayers and tears of men ! Her heart sank. Battle was inevitable. Mayenne had hastened thither expressly for it, and Henry had vowed to stake his kingdom and life on the encounter. Hark! What was that sound? Was it the 322 King or Knave throbbing of her own heart? Or did the air bring the distant rumble of cannon? She list- ened, in breathless suspense. It must be so ! The hour had come. On yonder field her judg- ment hung in the balance. In a new passion of prayer she flung herself at the foot of a crucifix, her beautiful hands outstretched, her golden hair falling in disorder over her shoulders, pale, her eyes red, her wan cheeks stained with tears, her bloodless lips moving in alternate moans and prayers. Each time she began with a formal petition and tried to hold her thoughts to the familiar words of the Ave Maria or the Pater. Each time a flood of feeling swept over her and bore her on from the language of custom to the wail of the burdened heart in a spontaneous litany : " O Father of Heaven, shield and bring him safe from the battle ! " O Jesu, Saviour, by thy sufferings, by Thy cross and passion, by Thine agony of death, save a wretched sinner ! " O Mary, Mother of sorrows, most merciful, most chaste, hear and save thy child ! " Then, worn out with the conflict of feeling, she sank at the foot of the crucifix. The eyes of the sculptured Man of Sorrows seemed to look down pitifully on her. Now she rose and again flung open the case- ment. It was unmistakable. The air throbbed with the sound, now faint and infrequent, now swelling to a sullen roar. 3 2 3 King or Knave So a weary hour passed in sobs and prayers. Then, a third time, she listened. There was no sound of cannon now. It was over. Her judg- ment was passed ! There was nothing now but to await the sentence. Another hour crept by on leaden feet. Then the clatter of a horse's hoofs was heard in the courtyard. Her ear, quick with anxiety, caught the sound. She rushed to the window and looked out. It was Louis. He was safe ! Thank God ! In another moment he burst into the room, covered with dust and blood, but radiant with hope. " Jy> Gabrielle ! Victory and honor ! France is saved ! " " And I am lost ! " she cried, then sank into a seat. He advanced and seized her cold hand and carried it to his lips. But she wrested it from him. Then he noticed her wan countenance, her swollen eyes, her dishevelled hair. "My' God! What ails you, Gabrielle?" he cried in amazement. " Speak, I implore you." But not a word passed her ashy lips. There she sat in the silence of despair, pale as death, her eyes fixed, her head drooping, the beautiful hands limp by her side, no sign of life, save the breath coming and going in quick gasps. " God in Heaven ! What is this ? " cried her lover impetuously. " Have you no word of weicome for me ? See ! I bring you tidings of 3 2 4 King or Knave a great victory, of the King's triumph, of Gaston's, of mine. I come to you, fresh from a glorious field, my heart full of the sweetest hopes. And you seem to see in me a messenger of death." " Worse ! Of shame," she whispered hoarsely. " Of shame ? Never, thank God ! What mean these strange words, Mademoiselle? Know that Louis de Bellegarde has no acquaintance with shame. Oh ! Speak, I implore you ! " And he threw himself at her feet, seized the lifeless hand and, pressing it with ardor, continued in a flood of eager words, " Only speak, Gabrielle, life of my soul ! Tell me what dreadful delusion possesses you to couple my name with shame, when I have helped to save France." "And I have lost myself and you!" she cried. "Oh, my God ! that you should aid in my undoing ! " "How? What? Speak, Gabrielle ! What do you mean by these wild words? Is there no end of your enigmas?" He had started to his feet and stood staring at her in wonder. " This day, Louis de Bellegarde, seals my shame," she answered slowly. Then suddenly she threw herself at his feet and cried, " Spurn me, Louis, whose heart knows only honor and truth. I am vile. Spurn me " " Hold, Gabrielle, I pray you ! In God's name, cease these ravings ! Some strange trouble has disturbed you. Rise, I beg you, and calm your- self." And he essayed to raise her. 325 King or Knave But she grovelled at his feet and cried, " Nay, touch me not ! Hold your honest hands aloof from a dishonored wretch ! " " What ! " he cried, starting back and fixing on her a piercing look. Dark suspicions flashed through his mind. What shameful experiences could alone account for such self-abasement? This from the proud Gabrielle ! What secret of sin and remorse was revealing its hideous face? Then he remembered the years of absence, and how strangely altered he had found her. He recalled his strong impression of an occult and malign influence warping her nature. At that memory his heart sank. Now the dark enigma was solving itself. " Dishonored ! Sold ! Bartered for God knows what ! " she moaned. She had risen to her knees and, with her body swaying to and fro, her hands covering her burning cheeks, poured forth her fragmentary confession. Her lover eyed her sternly. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and strange. "What is this crime that lies so heavy on your conscience?" How could she tell the shameful truth? For a while there was not a word spoken. But she knelt there, her face covered. Then Bellegarde broke the stillness again, and his words fell slow and icy. " Is this thing that you have done so vile that your tongue cannot tell it?" 326 King or Knave " Not done planned pledged myself to do," she faltered. A great hope leaped up in his heart. "Speak, Gabrielle ! Quick ! In God's name, tell me what is it?" he flung out." " I am to marry " she said in a hoarse whisper. A cloud of jealousy darkened his soul. " Ah, that indeed ! " he said coldly. " You have doubtless selected a fit partner. But why this humiliation? And who is the favored suitor?" " A Monsieur de Liancourt," she faltered. " Impossible ! " he cried in amazement. "Liancourt! Drivelling dotard ! Decrepit miser ! You have contracted to marry him, you to mate with such a creature ! It cannot be." Then a light dawned upon him. "Ah, I see," he said, dropping his words slowly, " Monsieur de Liancourt is willing, for a consideration, to lend his name to another ; per- chance, to cloak a royal caprice. The beautiful arrangement ! " She buried her face in her hands and writhed. Each syllable cut like a whip. He continued relentlessly, "And you have done this shameful thing ! You have contracted to deliver your honor, God save the mark ! for a fixed price ! HOW much, I wonder. At what value does a maiden of such and such qualities rate herself ? Beautiful yes; high-born yes; proud yes that is, once. She must come 327 King or Knave high. But she knows her market, doubtless. And his Majesty is no niggard where beauty is concerned. Let us hope that his newest acquisition will find her splendor worth the price." Not a word from her. Only her body still swayed back and forth, and the beautiful hands still covered the burning face. There was a knock at the door. Gabrielle answered it. Her hostess's maid handed her a note, marked " Urgent." She tore it open and read : DEAREST GABRIELLE, Something whispers to me that your visitor has come to ask your hand. Give it to him, my child. A true man, such as he, will crown your life with happiness. I read love in his eyes, when he came here, two days since. And I rejoiced for your sake, for I saw in him a noble and generous soul. If my surmise is correct, take him, my child, with- out fear or hesitation. The heart of a true man is a prize that falls to the lot of few women. Also, I am warranted in speaking for your father. He has committed you to my care, with the request that I would act for you in a mother's stead. And your mother, who is in Paradise, if she were here, would rejoice to give you to one so worthy. More- over, Monsieur de Bellegarde surely has before him an honored career. Happy the woman who possesses his love ! I anticipate the one objection that may arise, and, God be praised 1 it is in my power to meet it. Rely 328 King or Knave on a liberal dower from me and, at my death, a large inheritance from Yours, with a heart full of love, ANTOINETTE DE G. With a cry, " Too late ! Too late ! " Gabri- elle sank into a seat. Here were love, honor, and happiness placed within her reach. With faith to be true to herself, they would now be hers ! And these priceless things she had for- feited by her greed and selfishness. Great God ! Had her punishment already begun, the crime still incomplete? Horses' hoofs clattered again in the court- yard. A moment more and Lisette, with terri- fied countenance, opened the door, and a soldier tottered into the room. He was ghastly pale, and a bandage covering a wound in the head was saturated with blood. Gabrielle recognized Blaise Jourdan, her brother's faithful attendant from his infancy. When the heir of Cceuvres was little more than a baby, his proud father had selected Blaise, then a likely young fellow, to wait upon his little master. As the boy advanced in years, he became deeply attached to his humble friend. Nobody could do anything quite so well as Blaise. From him he learned the accomplish- ments which a boy most admires. It was Blaise who taught the young lord to ride and to swim, to make a trap, to set a snare, to make a fly and to cast it, and all the mysteries of hawking. 329 King or Knave And when the time came for the youth to go forth into the world, Blaise must still attend him. It was he who now appeared in so alarming guise. At the sight of him, alone and wounded, Gabrielle started to her feet in terror. " Tell me, Blaise," she cried, " is anything amiss? Where is my brother? Is he well?" " He is well, Mademoiselle," he answered slowly. Then drawing himself up in a soldierly attitude, he added in a voice in which grief and pride struggled, "He sleeps a soldier's death." " Oh, my God ! No, it cannot be ! Oh, my brother ! " " Nay, hold ! There is surely some mistake," cried Bellegarde eagerly. " I saw him, when the battle was won, and the enemy in full flight. He rode gallantly at the head of his regiment." " Even so, Monsieur de Bellegarde. Through- out the battle he was unhurt, only too safe, he thought. He chafed furiously at our inactivity, for the regiment was held in reserve. He could not endure to see others fighting, while we were kept idle. Never had I seen him so excited. He acted as if an inward fire was consuming him. Perhaps it was the sight of bloodshed that made him wild. Once he rode up to Marshal de Biron and craved leave to lead the regiment into action. " ' Back to your place, sir ! When your force is needed, you will receive orders to move,' was the old general's answer. 330 King or Knave "That seemed to make him more impatient still. He fretted and raged. Even for me he had scarcely a calm word. He seemed utterly changed from his old self. At last, when the Leaguers were breaking in confusion, the order came to lead the regiment in pursuit. At once he waved his sword, shouted the command to charge, and led the way like the wind. He soon outstripped us all and was among the flee- ing Leaguers, cutting right and left like a demon. But that was not enough. He made straight for a body of the enemy riding together in com- pact order, a score at the least. I shouted to him to have a care, for there was at the most a handful of us who had kept near him, and the Leaguers, seeing how few we were, had faced about and stood their ground. " In vain. He threw himself alone against them. Our little band supported him, as quickly as we could come up. But what could we do? Alas ! he had fallen, at the first shock. We fought over him, where he lay. Several fell around him. I did not myself come off whole. By this time a considerable force had come up, and we killed or routed the rest of the Leaguers. But, alas! it was too late. His wound was mortal. He knew it, and then, strange! he was happy. He was again like the boy of other days. ' My poor Blaise, you are hurt/ he said. ' ' Only a scratch,' I answered. " ' My good Blaise,' he said, ' you have served King or Knave me faithfully all my life. Will you do my last errand ? ' " ' While there is breath in my body/ I answered. " ' Take this letter/ he said, ' to my sister at the chateau of La Roche-Guyon. Let nothing hinder you, and go without delay. Tell her that you brought it straight from me dying and that it is wet with my heart's blood.' " He never spoke again, but only smiled on me, as in the old days. Then it was all over, and these hands that have tended him so many years, closed his eyes." The faithful fellow had hardly restrained his grief during this recital. Now he broke down utterly, as he drew forth and handed to Gabrielle a letter smeared with blood. "Take it my young mistress," he sobbed. " God knows, I would have willingly died to bring you this last message from my dear master, for it surely will be a comfort to you to know that his last thought was of you, whom he loved so tenderly." Gabrielle shuddered, as she received the ominous-looking missive. With trembling hands she tore it open and began to read. As she proceeded, a mortal agitation seized her. She gasped and clutched the arm of her chair. Then she fell back with a cry, "My God! He curses me ! " " Impossible ! " cried Bellegarde, and he 332 King or Knave snatched the paper from her hand and read it. It ran thus : MADEMOISELLE D'ESTREES, I write on the eve of battle. I shall not survive the morrow. I shall seek a soldier's death. I was not born to live in in- famy, and to me the grave is sweeter than life, since I have learned the story of your shame. An officer just now taunted me with rising on my sister's dishonor, of which he swore that he had proof absolute. We fought on the spot, and I killed the cur. But now I know that he spoke truth. His Majesty's singling me out for promotion gratified me, fool that I was ! Now I see in it the proof of our family's shame. Think you that I could live surrounded by those who would despise me ? No ! A thousand times rather let me die ! Go on, then, in the career you have chosen. But let the thought haunt you, that you have already sent a brother to his death, and that a father will soon follow him to a dishonored grave. I send my last bequest a brother's curse. GASTON D'ESTREES. Bellegarde stood aghast. Would to God that his poor friend had died ignorant of the shame- ful secret ! How his proud soul must have felt the dishonor of his family, of the sister in whom he gloried ! Now he understood Gaston's manner on that fateful morning. He recalled the sullen fury in his eye; how, when the King was mentioned, 333 King or Knave his brow lowered ; and his emotion at their parting, when he embraced him, as if for a long farewell, and muttered " Poor Louis ! " He sank into a seat. A long time passed in silence, the one sitting with her face buried in her hands, while waves of sorrow and shame swept over her; the other absorbed in reflec- tions scarcely less painful. For the one the day of judgment had come. She stood revealed to herself and self-con- demned. It was no longer possible to blink the truth, to delude herself with fine phrases. It was her own wayward will that had wrought this ruin. Bellegarde's thoughts were busy with retro- spection. Things inexplicable in the past grew clear. The secret influence working upon Gabrielle was exposed. And he had been made a fool ! He had laid his heart at her feet, and she had trodden it underfoot. His bitter meditations were interrupted by an exclamation from Gabrielle, as if she were think- ing aloud, " Oh, my brother, what has not your advancement cost me ! And now the sacrifice is vain ! And you died despising me for it." A new light broke upon Bellegarde. He caught at the hope that she was not at heart bad, but the victim of a mistaken devotion. He threw himself at her feet, overwhelmed with contrition. " Ah, forgive me, Gabrielle ! I have wronged you. Oh, tell me that, if you have erred, it 334 King or Knave has been through love of your family, of Gas- ton, and lift a great burden from my heart ! " " You have divined the truth. Ah ! Louis, always my poor heart pleaded for you, even when I seemed coldest. But what could I do? Think of my father's poverty and cease- less reiteration of the idea that a girl's heart is not to be considered, where the family interest is concerned ! Think of my poor brother's ambition and how he chafed at his obscurity ! Think of my love for him and my longing to serve him and lift our family to its rightful place ! Oh, Louis ! Do not despise, but pity me, as the victim of a cruel necessity." How could he withstand such an avowal? His reason condemned, but his heart embraced her. Still he restrained himself. " And you did what?" he asked in a softened voice. "In an evil hour I pledged myself to him," she faltered. " How was this possible, without your father's knowledge, your father, so watchful and so ex- acting?" " We had secret meetings," she faltered, hang- ing her head. "And you met him as his mistress?" " Oh, my God ! No ! Never ! Lisette was always there. I am pure, pure as the Mother of God," she cried, raising herself from her lowly attitude and facing him with something of her old self-assertion.. 335 King or Knave " Is not purity of the heart, rather than of the body? " he asked sadly. And before his steady eye she bowed her head again. She saw it all now, that she had lived a lie, not to the world only, but to herself, deluded by the glamour of the thing she secretly longed for. Bellegarde stood before her as the em- bodiment of all that was worthiest in her thoughts, of the happy days ere this corrupting influence had come into her life. A ray of hope darted into her mind. He stood for the best in her past. Why not in her future? She flung herself at his feet. She seized his hand. " Oh, Louis, Louis ! whom alone I have ever loved, save me ! " How his heart yearned towards the beautiful creature grovelling before him ! But the awful fact of her treachery remained. With a great effort, he still held himself in hand. He would understand the conditions with which he must deal. " But you are pledged," he said slowly ; " you have entered into an engagement to live with him as his mistress, under the cloak of a false marriage." She only groaned and covered her face. " You are bound to this on what conditions? " Still no word from her. Then a new light came to her lover, as he pondered. She had waited to see what his rival's fortune would be. The infamy of her 336 King or Knave calculation ! This was the meaning of those words of hers which to his fond heart had been so full of the sweetest hope, " All will depend on the issue of the next battle ! " The bottom fact was reached at last. She had not erred through a passing weakness. With cool premeditation, she had made her terms, offered herself as the prize of victory. And he, blind fool, had thrown his heart into winning that field which was to give her to the other ! He groaned in sheer pain. Not to be loved a man might bear. But to love such a creature and to know her at last ! Would that he had died with Gaston, now forever uncon- scious of mortal shame ! " Ah ! I see it all," he said. " You would not give yourself to the struggling claimant of the throne. You have waited to see him make his title good." Only a groan from Gabrielle. " Now," he continued, and his tone was hard and fierce, " the time is ripe. The victorious King of France will possess the prize for which the struggling King of Navarre has been fain to wait." She could endure no more. Her overstrained feeling burst out in a bitter cry, " Louis, spare me ! Be pitiful ! Do not you break my heart." Again she threw herself at his feet and moaned, as earlier she had lain at the foot of the crucifix. No humiliation was too great. How could she 22 337 King or Knave let this heart that once trusted her wholly, be closed to her forever? At that moment it seemed as if her only hope in all the world lay in his mercy. " Oh, judge me not too harshly ! " she pleaded. " Think of my lonely, motherless girlhood, with- out guide or counsellor ! Think of my father, so stern and so embittered by poverty ! Think of poor Gaston, so aspiring ! Oh, Louis ! mine has been a hard fate. A cruel destiny has driven me, against my will." He was deeply touched. He knew the truth of her plea. But he knew also, that it was only the smaller part of the truth ; that greater and stronger than the things she had urged was her own wilful self. He shook his head sorrowfully. " Every one carries his destiny in his own bosom. Ah, Gabrielle, before the thing that we do is always the thing that we are. Believe me, outward circumstance gets no hold but through that which is within. Fate is but the deepest current of one's nature." Conscience declared his words true. The thing that she had chosen was the thing that she desired. Instead of an imaginary victim of duty, she saw the bald reality of a girl choos- ing shame, because the splendor of a court had dazzled her imagination. " Oh, save me, then ! Save me, Louis, from myself ! " she moaned. She seized his hand and pressed it to her 338 King or Knave lips, while tears streamed over it. She was on her knees, in pitiful, abasement. He looked down on the beautiful golden head bowed in contrition. His love came surging back in all its force. Yes, he would take her as she was. Her treachery should be buried in oblivion. To cherish her nobler self, aroused at last, would be the work of his life. Thank God ! it was not too late. She might yet be redeemed. The memory of all this horror should be sunk in a sea of love. And Heaven would smile on their united lives. He lifted her. He folded her in his arms. Their lips met in a long kiss. Her head sank on his shoulder, its golden wealth against his cheek. Her burdened heart found relief in tears. Every questioning was forgotten in the consciousness of resting on that true breast. An eternity of ecstasy was in that embrace. Bellegarde tasted the joy for which he had yearned so many years. She was his. And in that supreme fact all that was painful was swallowed up. But it behooved him to act quickly. For the situation was perilous. She who clung to him was pledged to his sovereign. The royal lover would not be slow to claim his prize. It was in the nature of the man to hasten from the field of battle, to lay his trophies at her feet. At any moment he might appear. Bellegarde's resolution was quickly taken. It required nerve. He was about to defy his 339 King or Knave sovereign and to snatch the prize away from him, on the very eve of fruition. And it re- quired prompt and swift action. They must fly at once. With good horses they might succeed in reaching the border, or, pressed hard, they might find a hiding-place in some isolated cor- ner of the kingdom. It was a hazardous step. It meant to quit his post, to sacrifice employment, friends, and future advancement ; to leave behind all that he had struggled to win by slow effort, and to go forth into the world, a penniless stranger, with his way to make and his King for his mortal enemy. But his spirit rose equal to its need. Gabrielle saved, he would count the world well lost for her dear sake. And, with her by his side, how sweet would be the bitterest cup of poverty and privation ! " Thank God ! You are mine, darling. You trust me fully? " She clung closer to him. He gently disengaged himself from her arms, so as to hold her where he might look into her eyes. "Then listen to me, sweet. There is not a moment to be lost. Our only hope is in instant flight. With good horses, we shall be across the border, before we can be overtaken. Then we shall be safe. In the service of the Prince of Orange or the Queen of England I shall earn a modest livelihood. Are you willing to share poverty and obscurity with me?" 340 King or Knave She suddenly turned ghastly pale. The light died in her eyes. She staggered into a seat and sank down, in an attitude of despair, with no word, but only a moan. " Tell me, Gabrielle, what ails you ? " Belle- garde cried almost fiercely. " Are you afraid of poverty? Are you unwilling to pay the price of deliverance and of honest love?" " Oh, my God, no ! Not that ! But my oath ! I had forgotten it, in the madness of my joy. Hated oath that binds me to shame ! " " What mean you ? That you have sworn to this dishonor? " " Yes, Louis, sworn to it on the holy image." " Fling to the winds such scruples ! Accursed compact with Hell ! Think you that God holds you to it, and not rather that He will bless you for breaking it?" She stared at him with open-eyed horror of his impious words. " Tempt me not, Louis, to a worse wrong than any that is past. I have sinned enough. Ask me not to defy God, to whom I have sworn. Better let me suffer the penalty of my wicked- ness than add a new crime." He regarded her in blank amazement Then he saw that the trouble with her was deeper than he could reach; that beneath that exte- rior of marvellous beauty was an unsounded abyss of perversity, of faithfulness only to false notions. Still he pleaded, urged, implored. Every King or Knave minute was precious. At any instant the King might come to claim her. In vain. She was deaf to every appeal. He would have dragged her away. She waved him off, saying, " Touch me not ! I am pledged to another, and my oath is registered in Heaven. Would you damn my soul forever?" Who could reason with such a being? He groaned. Before his very eyes, the idol of his fancy had become clay. He exclaimed despairingly, " Alas ! What remains to me?" " Hope," she said with quivering lips, glanc- ing for an instant into his face and immediately dropping her eyes. He looked at her in deeper amazement. What? A new treachery? " Do you take me for a dog, that I should be content to gather by stealth the crumbs that may fall from my master's table, or to wait to receive you at the King's hands with a dower, when he tires of you ? " She winced at this thrust. The bitter truth of her degradation was coming home to her. Horsemen were heard in the courtyard. He looked out. Two men were dismounting. " He is come," he said simply. She uttered a cry of terror. " Oh, Heaven ! Is there no power to save me?" Tottering towards her lover with arms out- stretched in a last appeal, she moaned, "Oh, Louis, do you too abandon me?" 342 King or Knave " Defend you against all the world I will, Mademoiselle, with the last drop of my blood. But from yourself I cannot save you." Then, as he withdrew through one door, through another appeared Henry, eager and flushed, with the rheumy eyes and wizened countenance of the Sieur de Liancourt peering over his shoulder, the lover and the husband of her choice. THE END 343 fiction "Che King's Frenchman. A Chronicle of the Sixteenth Century. Brought to light and edited by WILLIAM HENRY JOHNSON, izmo. Cloth, extra, gilt top. $1.50. What is more noticeable than the interest of the story itself is Mr. John- son's intuitive insight and thorough understanding of the period. While the book is Weyman in vigorous activity, it is Dumas in its brilliant touches of romanti- cism. Boston Herald. Mr. Johnson has caught the spirit of the period, and has painted in Henry of Navarre a truthful and memorable historical portrait. The Mail and Express of New York. Duenna of a Genius. By M. E. FRANCIS (Mrs. Francis Blundell), author of "In a North Country Vil- lage," "A Daughter of the Soil," etc. I2mo. Cloth, extra, gilt top. $1.50. An admirable novel ; a pure, bright, pleasant, sparkling, wholesomfe, inter- esting story of musical taste, talent, and life. The idea is a beautiful one itself, and it is well carried out in the structure of the story. Literary World- A novel that does n't sound a hackneyed note from beginning to end. . . . One of the brightest, happiest, and most infectious of the numerous stories that have a musical basis. Boston Herald. Freshly told and charmingly conceived. Very delightful reading, and, in these hurried and high-strung days, a genuine refreshment. Boston Transcript. "Che Count's 8miff-Box. A Romance of Washington and Buzzard's Bay during the War of 1812. By GEORGE R. R. RIVERS, author of "The Governor's Garden," "Captain Shays, a Populist of 1786," etc. Illustrated by Clyde O. De Land. I2mo. Cloth, gilt top. $1.50. A well-conceived and well-told story, from which the reader will get an excel- lent idea of society and manners in the nation's capital nearly a century ago. Boston Transcript. Will rank as one of the successes of the year if there is any faith to be put in a capital story in a frame fashioned of our own rugged history. Denver Republican. Bach Life Unfulfilled. By ANNA CHAPIN RAY, author of "Teddy, Her Book," etc. i6mo. Qoth, extra. $1.25. A novel of to-day, dealing with American life. Its principal characters are a young girl studying for a musical career, and an author. The scenes of the story are laid in a Western summer resort and in New York. F)as9an. H Romance of Palestine* By HENRY GILLMAN. Crown 8vo. 600 pages. Cloth, gilt top. $2.00. The author of this powerful romance lived in Palestine for over five years, and during his residence there had unusual and peculiar advantages for seeing and knowing the people and the country, enabling him to enrich his story with local color, characteristics, and information not found in any other work of the kind on the Holy Land. The pen-portraits of the people are studies made upon the spot, and the descriptions of Jerusalem and the surrounding country are word-pictures of the land as it is to-day, and therefore of special value. A biblical, patriarchal, pastoral spirit pervades it. Indeed, the whole book is saturated with the author's reverence for the Holy Land, its legends, tradi- tions, glory, misery, its romance, in a word, and its one supreme glory, the im- press of the Chosen of God and of the Master who walked among them. The Independent. Mr. Gillman has certainly opened up a new field of fiction. The book is a marvel of power, acute insight, and clever manipulation of thoroughly grounded truths. There is no question that it lives and breathes. The story is as much of a giant in fiction as its hero is among men. Boston Herald. The impression made by reading the book is like that of witnessing a great play, its scenes are so vivid, its characters so real, its surrounding horizon so picturesque, its setting so rich and varied. Philadelphia Item. Sielanha: a forest picture, and Other Stories* By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, author of "Quo Vadis," "With Fire and Sword," etc. Translated from the Polish by JEREMIAH CURTIN. Uniform with the other volumes of the Library Edition of Sienkiewicz. Crown 8vo. $2.00. This new volume by the most popular writer of the time includes the shorter stories which have not before been published in the uniform Library Edition, rendering it the only complete edition of his works in English. It comprises six hundred pages, and contains the following stories, dramas, etc. : Sielanka, a Forest Picture ; For Bread ; Orso ; Whose Fault, a Dra- matic Picture in One Act ; On a Single Card, a Play in Five Acts ; The Decision of Zeus ; Yanko the Musician ; Bartek the Victor ; Across the Plains ; The Diary of a Tutor in Poznan ; The Lighthouse Keeper of Aspinwall ; Yamyol (Angel); The Bull Fight; A Comedy of Errors; A Journey to Athens ; Zola. Under the seventeen titles one finds almost as many aspects of the genius of Sienkiewicz. Detached from the intricacies of an elaborate composition, figures, scenes, and episodes become far more effective. New York Times. Xn Tain. By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ. Translated from the Polish by JEREMIAH CURTIN. i6mo. Cloth, extra. $1.25. A love story of modern Poland, by the author of " Quo Vadis," not before translated. The scene is laid at Kieff, and university life there is described. Story Of Gb'sta Berling. Translated from the Swedish of SELMA LAGERL&F, by PAULINE BANCROFT FLACH. izmo. Cloth, gilt. $1.75. When "Gosta Berling" was first published in Sweden a few years ago, Miss Lagerldf immediately rose into prominence, and, as Mr. E. Nesbit Bain writes in the October " Cosmopolis," " took the Swedish public by storm." The sagalike treatment and almost lyric mood of " The Story of Gb'sta Berling " render its form in keeping with the unusual character of the book itself. The harshness of Northern manners enables Miss Lagerlof to probe hitman life to its depths ; and with the effect of increasing the weird power of 'the whole, a convincing truth to nature is intermingled with the wild legends and folk-lore of Varmland. There is hardly a page that does not glow with strange beauty, so that the book exerts an unbroken charm from beginning to end. The Bookman. Something Homeric in its epic simplicity runs through the history of the deposed priest. The opening chapters engage the attention at once by their mystic realism. Time and the Hour. I am the King. Being the Account of some Happenings in the Life of Godfrey de Bersac. Crusader Knight. By SHEPPARD STEVENS. i6mo. Cloth, extra. $1.25. A fresh and invigorating piece of reading. Nashville A merican. Characterized by those graceful touches which belong to true and pure romanticism. Boston Herald. It has the straightforwardness of the old-time story-teller. St. Louis Globe-Democrat. Che Duhe'a Servants. H Romance. By SIDNEY HERBERT BURCHELL, author of " In the Days of King James." i2tno. Cloth, extra. $1.50. A highly successful romance, of general interest and of creditable workman- ship. London A thenceunt. Pastor Naudte'9 ^oung Cdife. By EDOUARD ROD. Translated from the French by BRADLEY OILMAN. I2mo. Cloth. $1.25. M. Rod's new novel is a study of French Protestantism, and its scene is laid in La Rochelle and Montauban, the two Huguenot strongholds. It was first published in the " Revue des Deux Mondes," and at once achieved success. " M. Rod's work," says Edmund Gosse in the " Contemporary Review," "whether in criticism or fiction, always demands attention." "The Catholics," says a writer in "Literature," "praise the book because they find in it arguments against their adversaries ; the Protestants, while protesting that the author, because he writes in the clerical Gaulois, is none of theirs, read it to discover personal allusions to their spiritual guides." 3 Cbe Kinship of Souls* H Narrative* By REUEN THOMAS. i2mo. Cloth, extra. $1.50. The author of this work is well known through his connection with the ministry. The volume gives an account of a trip made by a philo- sophical professor, his intellectual daughter, and a young theological stu- dent, including descriptions of various portions of England and Germany visited by the persons of the narrative. The undogmatic way in which the author discusses theology and philosophy will interest the serious-minded. King or Knave. dbicb Glins ? An old Tale of Hugue- not Days. Edited by WILLIAM HENRY JOHNSON. I2mo. Cloth, extra. $1.50. This is a sequel to the author's successful romance of the time of Henry of Navarre, entitled "The King's Henchman." Much of its in- terest centres in the personality of the famous Gabrielle d'Estrees and the efforts of Henry of Navarre to obtain possession of the throne of France. "Che Miracles of Hnticbrist. By SELMA LAGERLOF. Author of "The Story of Gosta Berling." Translated from the Swedish by PAULINE BANCROFT FLACH. I2mo. Cloth, extra. $1.50. This second important work from the pen of the successful author of " Gosta Berling," which has created such a strong impression, will be widely read. " The author," says a reviewer in " Cosmopolis," " has chosen the Etna region of Sicily as the theatre of her story, and the result is a masterpiece of the highest order, a chef-d'oeuvre which places the young author in the front rank of the literary artists of her day. The merits of ' Antekrists Mirakler ' are so superlative that a lesser eulogy would be inadequate. ... It is worth while to learn Swedish to read this astonishing book. All who hunger after true poetry may here eat, drink, and be satisfied." H Boy in the Peninsular