As the guards cut the cords that bound
De Ganache’s arms those who were on the tower
crowded round to congratulate him; but he seemed dazed,
and unable to realise his fortune. With an effort,
however, he brought himself together, and silently
took my hand. He could not speak, but I understood;
and now Sarlaboux urged an immediate move, saying that
the sooner De Ganache was away the better, as
there was no knowing what might happen next.
With this he led the way down, and we followed.
On coming forth from the tower we
found that the troops were already moving away, though
many of the officers remained behind, and came up
to us, out of curiosity to learn what had happened.
At first we could not see Montluc anywhere, but a
voice called out: “There is the General!”
And looking, we saw a lonely figure in the distance
galloping by the Marais de St. Hilaire.
Then he turned the angle of the great priory.
There was a flash of his red plume, a glitter of
sunlight on his corselet, and he was gone.
“If you take my advice, monsieur,”
I said to De Ganache, “you will be off
at once. Here is a horse and there
is the open gate.” And with this I placed
the reins of my nag, which Pierrebon had brought up,
in his hand. The enthusiasm of the moment caught
all. Menorval of the Light Horse gave him a
sword, someone else a hat, another a cloak. The
colour came and went from De Ganache’s sunburnt
face as, stammering his thanks, he mounted.
Then he put out his hand to me. “Monsieur,”
he said, “I can never forget; and De Ganache
is ever your friend. Au revoir, gentlemen!”
So, giving the reins to the horse, he galloped out
of the gate, which was but a stonethrow distant.
As he crossed the bridge he turned in the saddle
and waved his hand in farewell, and then we lost him
in the hollow ground beyond.
Mounting Pierrebon’s horse I
joined the others, and we rode back to the priory Menorval
swearing that I must be a magician, as never before
had he known Montluc yield as he had done this morning.
As for me, though surprised at the
result, my satisfaction was increased by the thought
that in aiding De Ganache I had helped one who
was a friend of mademoiselle. It was not this
that had prompted me to intervene on his behalf.
Had it been anyone else I should have acted as I
had done. De Ganache was not clean-handed.
He had shown little mercy to those who fell into
his hands, and when face to face with death he had
shown the white feather, though at the last he seemed
to recover himself. Still, guilty though he
may have been, his death would have been a crime,
and it was something to think I had stood between
Montluc and that terrible blood madness which at times
possessed him.
On arrival at the Capuchins my first
thought was to see Montluc at once, and although Sarlaboux
and others tried to dissuade me I persisted in my
design, and found myself once more before the door
of his cabinet. On my entering he received me
coldly, and, without making any reference to what
had just happened, inquired my business as if he had
totally forgotten his summons to me. I explained
that I was there in obedience to his request to see
me, and after a moment of thought he said:
“You recollect I told you I
would probably entrust you with a commission to the
Queen? Are you ready to undertake it?”
“Perfectly.”
“You will have to go back to
Paris; but that is your way. When can you start?”
It was not wise to think of a return
to Paris; but I had gone too far to shrink back now,
and besides, I was beginning to believe again in my
star. So I gulped down my fears, and put a bold
front on the matter, saying:
“As soon as I can get a horse, monsieur.”
“Ho!” And we looked at
each other steadily. A faint smile bent his
iron lips, and, muttering something in his beard, he
took up a pen, scratched a few lines, and handed me
the paper. I glanced at it, and saw it was an
order to give me any horse I liked from his stable.
I began to thank him; but he stopped me, saying:
“Show the order to Sarlaboux;
and if you take my advice you will choose Lizette,
the dun mare. She will well replace the one you
have lost.”
“I well know how to value such a gift, monsieur.”
“Here there is a packet for
the Queen; but this is not your task. I am going
to entrust you with a prisoner, whom you will place
in the Queen’s hands.”
“Monsieur,” I began; but
he read my thoughts ere I had spoken them.
“Oh, it is no catch-poll’s
business; I have others to do that. This lady
is only a nominal prisoner ”
“It’s a woman, then?”
And my thoughts went back to mademoiselle. Could
Sarlaboux have been mistaken?
“Yes; and remember that her
life depends upon her reaching the Queen, though she
does not believe it.”
“May I ask this lady’s name?”
“Mademoiselle de Paradis, the
greatest heiress in Poitou, but a Huguenot to her
little finger-tips.”
“In that case, monsieur, the
Queen’s mantle of protection is likely to be
a shroud.”
“You do not understand,”
he snapped. “Mademoiselle, or rather her
lands, have attracted the attention of Diane de Poitiers
and her brood of swallows. The Queen would give
her right hand to thwart the mistress in this, and
she, and only she, can save her. Montpensier
will be here in a fortnight, and I shall be gone.
You know, I think, what that means. I give
you my word of honour, monsieur, that this lady’s
life is on a hair. Why I should trouble about
it I don’t know; but the Queen has commanded
me in this, and Jean de Paradis, her father, was my
old friend, and for his sake I would save his child.
But you seem to be sniffing the air over this, M. Broussel ”
“I was, monsieur! But now I accept the
task.”
“Very well. You will arrange,
then, to start at three. I shall see that mademoiselle
is ready. You will have four good swords with
you; and, remember, she is your prisoner, rescue or
no rescue.”
I bowed, and was turning to go, when he stopped me.
“A word more! Trust not
a soul, King’s man or Huguenot do
not even trust her. It is said that she is the
promised wife of De Ganache. If that story
is true I promise you trouble, but you have yourself
to thank for it.” And he rose and accompanied
me to his door. It was the only allusion he
made to what had happened on the tower, and never
again did he refer to it.
I had more than guessed who my prisoner
was, though, of course, I was not sure, and the mention
of De Ganache in connection with her had struck
me like a blow. But it was hardly the time to
think of matters like this, and putting it aside with
a firm hand I hurried to my quarters, where to my
annoyance I found the Capuchin Grigolet. I guessed
his needs, and a brace of crowns to further the conversion
of the Jewess rid me of the rascal. Then bidding
Pierrebon be ready to start in a couple of hours I
went in search of Sarlaboux.
I found that worthy in the archway
of the main gate playing at cards with Menorval.
“Ogier beats you.”
And Menorval put down the knave of spades.
“Out upon the knave! Here
is Pallas.” And Sarlaboux covered the knave
with the queen.
“And David, the king, takes
the game,” laughed Menorval as he picked up
the stakes and began to shuffle once more.
With an apology for interrupting them
I showed Sarlaboux my order, whereupon, with many
exclamations at my good luck, he led the way to the
stable, followed by Menorval and myself.
“Morbleu!” grumbled
Menorval, “if this is the pay that royal messengers
get, away with my gilt spurs, and give me the wings
of Mercury to my heels.”
And so, laughing, we reached the stables,
where Sarlaboux bid me take my choice, his face falling
a little when he saw me halt before the dun mare.
From her looks I saw she was likely to carry me well;
and then, there was Montluc’s own recommendation.
“I will take Lizette,” I said.
“Then you take the best horse
in all Poitou.” And Menorval then and
there offered me a hundred crowns for her, which, needless
to say, I refused.
At the appointed time, accompanied
by Pierrebon, I rode into the courtyard of the priory,
and found there the men whom Montluc had promised
me. They had with them a sumpter horse, whilst
a third, which was evidently intended for my prisoner,
was held by a groom. I had some little time
to wait, which I passed in no enviable frame of mind.
Dismounting, I looked carefully at the saddlery of
my party, and then paced up and down the flagged court
in converse with Sarlaboux, who must have found me
somewhat dull, for he rallied me, offering, if I liked
not the task of taking a pretty woman all the way to
Paris, to take my place, as he had need of a wife
and a dowry to rebuild his house. It was in
the midst of one of his sallies that the door opened,
and Montluc appeared on the steps, and by his side Diane.
There was not a doubt of it; and for a moment I became
hot and cold all over, but, collecting myself, advanced
to meet them. As I came forward I saw mademoiselle
start slightly, make a half step towards me, and draw
back, and then Montluc said:
“This gentleman, mademoiselle,
will be your escort to Paris.”
I bowed, saying nothing, but she held out her hand.
“Monsieur, I had hoped you would have known
me.”
I confess I was tongue-tied, and could
only mutter something, and Montluc glanced from the
one to the other of us.
“Then you are already acquainted?” he
asked in surprise.
“Mademoiselle is the lady to
whom, as I have mentioned to you, monsieur, I was
enabled to render a slight service ”
“That is what he calls saving
my life, Monsieur de Montluc. I have at any
rate to thank you for giving me a friend for my jailor.
There is but one more kindness I ask of you ”
“And that is ?”
“Let this gentleman escort me
to Chatellerault. I do not want to go to Paris.”
Montluc held up his hand. “That
is the old cry, mademoiselle. It is impossible!
The Queen’s orders are final.”
“And you call yourself my dead father’s
friend?”
Montluc smiled grimly. “I
saved his life at Pavia. That was thirty-three
years ago. But that has nothing to do with the
matter. You cannot stay here. You cannot
stay at Chatellerault. You must go to Paris,
and it is growing late.”
She flushed all over, but again returned to her point.
“You have time after time told me I am not a
prisoner. Why, then ”
“Because Chatellerault no longer
contains your friends, and Monsieur de Randan now
commands there.”
She turned as white now as she had
been red before, and a bitter pang of jealousy went
through me as I thought for whom all this feeling was;
but she brought herself together and faced Montluc.
“Very well, monsieur.
I understand your friendship and your kindness now.
I tell you plainly that I will escape at the first
opportunity. I shall never reach Paris.”
“That is M. Broussel’s
affair; and, mademoiselle, the marches are long in
Poitou.”
She gave him no answer, but, as it
were, resigning herself to the present, went up to
her horse, accepting only the assistance of the groom
to mount.
When all was ready Montluc called
me aside, and we stood together for a moment on the
wide steps.
“Mordieu!” he muttered
as he glanced at mademoiselle, “I do not envy
your task. Upon my soul, I am glad that Jean
de Paradis won her mother’s hand and not I!”
And then in an altered manner:
“I have your word to do all
that man can for her safety?”
“I have said so, monsieur.”
There was a little silence, and he stretched out a
lean hand.
“Monsieur, forget not:
there is room for you in Italy; it would gladden me
to see the golden cock of Orrain once more upon the
field. And now go.”