That night it was my duty to take
the guard outside the Queen’s apartments.
Circumstances had made it impossible for me to have
speech with De Lorgnac, and Le Brusquet was nowhere
to be seen, so that I was unable to inform them of
what I knew.
Full of the discovery I had made,
and with my thoughts running on the danger that threatened
mademoiselle, I paced backward and forward before
the door leading into the ante-room, my long shadow
keeping me ghostly company. It was the night
of the great masque given by the King in honour of
his Diane’s birthday the masque in
which she was to flaunt in the Crown diamonds and,
as may be imagined, there was not a soul to be seen
in the gallery that curved before me into dim, mysterious
gloom.
Now and again I thought I heard a
laugh and the sound of subdued voices from within
the ante-room; but, guessing that the mice were probably
playing within, I paid no heed, and, being a little
tired, seated myself on the coffer that lay in the
shadow near the door, and stared moodily into the
silence, absorbed in my own sombre reflections.
On a sudden I heard the patter of
footsteps hasty, rapid footsteps coming
towards me along the gallery. I challenged, and
got the password on the instant in Le Brusquet’s
voice, and in a half-minute the little man emerged
from the gloom and stood beside me.
“I was ready to give my last
pistole to see you,” I began; but he put up
his hand, saying in a low tone, as he pointed to the
door:
“Hush! Is there anyone within?”
“Mice, I think,” I answered softly.
“Perhaps a cat.”
And he dropped his voice to the lowest whisper.
“Whoever they are I must empty that room ere
we speak, for I have, I think, as much for you as
you for me.”
With this he knocked twice sharply
at the door. After a moment it was opened, and
putting the curtains aside Le Brusquet slipped into
the room. In doing so, whether by accident or
design, he left the door open and the curtains drawn
back, so that from where I stood in the shadow outside
I could see and hear all that passed within.
There were only two persons there, and I smiled a
little to myself at Le Brusquet’s caution, for
one was pretty Mademoiselle Davila, seated demurely
on a tabouret, and the other was a fair-haired boy
of sixteen or so, who stood with a red face and an
uncomfortable air some distance away from her.
“Mice, as I thought,”
I chuckled to myself, whilst Le Brusquet, with a profound
bow, said:
“Mademoiselle, I had thought
to have found M. de Lorgnac in waiting here.”
“Here! M. de Lorgnac!”
replied the maid-of-honour, with a little laugh.
“No; M. de Lorgnac never ventures here, unless
compelled to.”
“I suppose neither of you can
tell me where he has gone? Can you, De Lorges?”
And he turned to the page; but the boy only grew redder,
and began to make a fumbling reply.
Mademoiselle Davila, however, cut
in. “He has gone to the masque.”
And with a burst of confidence as she rose to her feet:
“The Queen has gone too, monsieur.”
“To the masque! The masque
she said she would never attend!”
“Oh, the Queen is a woman, monsieur!
And so she has gone, and gone masked, too, with Monsieur
de Lorgnac in attendance not a soul else and
I have been left here ah!” And she
stamped her little foot. “One cannot even
hear the music. Oh! it is a grave, this place a
grave!”
“Faith! I know those who
would think this little waiting-room a heaven.”
“Who?” She was a good
girl, but a coquette to her finger-tips, and the bait
took.
Ere he answered Le Brusquet slipped
his arm through that of the page, who seemed to be
meditating flight.
“That, mademoiselle,”
he said slyly, “is a secret between De Lorges
and myself.”
Mademoiselle coloured very prettily,
and half turning from her tormentor, said:
“I shall never speak to you again, monsieur never.”
“Mademoiselle, if you keep that
vow I shall die in a week; but see, I will make amends.
Why not slip on a hood and go to the masque?
De Lorges will be proud to escort you.”
She looked around her, half delighted,
half frightened at the thought, and then, with a nervous
laugh:
“I dare not risk it.”
“Why not? Not a soul will
know; and if there is any trouble say that Le Brusquet
played an evil turn on you, and told you you were summoned
by the Queen. I will not deny it; and it will
still Madame de Montal’s tongue. Come,
De Lorges, persuade her.”
“It would be a rare jest, mademoiselle!”
And, trembling with eagerness, De Lorges made a step
forward.
She stood wavering. There was
another word of encouragement from Le Brusquet, and
she took the plunge.
“A moment,” she said, and vanished into
the inner room.
“Eh bien, monsieur,”
and Le Brusquet turned towards De Lorges, “you
have a great trust to-night; guard it carefully.”
“Monsieur,” replied the
boy, “with my life,” and he touched the
hilt of his little sword. He was a gallant lad
this son of Montgomery de Lorges.
Le Brusquet bowed to hide the twinkle
in his eyes; and now Mademoiselle Davila reappeared,
disguised in a red hood and mask.
“No one will guess.”
And Le Brusquet surveyed her with a critical air,
whilst De Lorges, who longed to be off, burst out:
“Come, mademoiselle! I shall steal a mask
and hood from somewhere later on.”
But a new obstacle had arisen.
“I forgot,” she said, “the guard
at the door.”
“Reassure yourself, mademoiselle.
It is a friend Orrain.”
“The hero!” And she clapped
her hands. “Come, De Lorges.”
And, with a little nod to Le Brusquet, she ran to
the door, followed by the page. As the two came
forth she stopped.
“Monsieur d’Orrain, you will not betray
us?”
“Not I, mademoiselle.”
“Then as a reward I tell you
there is someone you would like to see reading Marot’s
verses in the Queen’s cabinet.”
Without waiting for an answer, she
tripped off down the gallery, De Lorges by her side.
There was a flash of the red hood, and the two were
gone.
“Enfin!” And Le
Brusquet sat himself down on the coffer. “We
are rid of that chattering feather-brain; but, before
everything, tell me when you will be relieved.”
“Within the hour.”
“That will do excellently.
Now for your news. Mine can keep for ten minutes.”
I told him what I had learned, and
he listened without a word until the end, listened
seated on the coffer, with his chin resting on his
knees, his long nose drooping over his mouth, and
his keen little eyes shining like beads.
“A good day’s work,”
he said when I had finished; “never better.
Two things are in my favour; one is that they have
not got that grant yet; the other, that the three
seem to be dissatisfied with their angles of the triangle.
Each wants what the other has, like cats over their
bowls of milk; and there is an old proverb, too, about
thieves falling out, which you, no doubt, remember.”
“I shall put the whole matter
before the Queen, and beg her to place Mademoiselle
de Paradis in safety until this is ended.”
“There is much water to flow
under the bridges before this will end; but it will
be a good move. The Admiral too will know of
the triangle in three days; and, if I mistake not,
that means that the Peace of Vaucelles is waste-paper.
It will stop the Spanish pensions, at any rate for
a time, and hit our vampires hard.” And
he chuckled as he slipped down from the coffer on
to his feet. “Mon ami,” he went
on in his strange way, “to-night and to-morrow
I shall be stirring this porridge, and by noon to-morrow
you will have certain news, and then we can act.
And now for your task.”
“My task?”
“Yes. I knew the Queen
was at the masque; she has gone there to see Diane
wearing her jewels. That she will never forgive;
and there will be a bitter vengeance some day mark
my words! The Queen requires the attendance
of Mademoiselle de Paradis. She knows of this.
It was arranged before, and she is merely awaiting
the summons in the cabinet yonder, and you are to
take her to the masque.”
“But I have neither mask nor hood!”
“That is arranged also, and
I have them ready for you. I will take mademoiselle
out now, and you will meet us after your relief on
the battlements outside the Philippine. You
know the spot where the stairway leads from the gallery?”
“Perfectly.”
“Then au revoir!”
With this he slipped back into the ante-room, and
five minutes after came forth, accompanied by a masked
and hooded figure that would have been unrecognisable
except that I knew it was Mademoiselle de Paradis.
As they came out we heard, far away
in the distance, the challenge of a sentry.
“It is the relief,” I said. “Quick!”
They waved their hands to me and sped
like sprites along the gallery; and I waited, wondering
what more the night would bring forth.
In about ten minutes the relief came
up; and M. de Tolendal, who was in charge, was so
eager to get back to the masquerade that he made no
inquiries, and got off as soon as possible, dismissing
me at the same time. I let monsieur hurry back
along the gallery, following at a slow pace behind
him, until I came to the steps that led down to the
battlements, and passing through the archway reached
the place appointed by Le Brusquet. Here I found
the two awaiting me in the shadow of the donjon, and
Le Brusquet said: “Here is your hood and
mask. I kept them here to save trouble in carrying
them. Remember that mademoiselle is the double
of the Queen and you of De Lorgnac. And now away
with you; I have other fish to fry.” With
this he ran up the stairway, and entered the Philippine.
“Mademoiselle,” I asked,
“can you guess what this means?”
“No, monsieur. All that
I know is that it is the Queen’s command, and
that we are to be there by midnight.”
“It will be that soon, so come.”
She put her arm in mine, and we hastened
along the edge of the battlements. We could
hear music now; and as we went on the strains grew
louder and louder, and at last we stood on the parapet
overlooking the Ladies’ Terrace. Beneath
us stretched the gardens of the palace, and thousands
of lights glowed, in many-coloured radiance, from within
the foliage of the trees wherein they were set; or,
raised high in the air, burned in rainbow-hued arches
and fantastic loops and curves.
Beneath these lights, in and out of
the shrubberies, amongst the parterres, in the
shadows and in the light, was an ever-moving crowd
and the continuous hum of voices, and now and again
merry ripples of laughter came to us as we watched
from above. A little beyond, to the right, the
façade of the audience hall was ablaze with light,
and on the broad flight of steps leading to the main
entrance were gay groups, the rich colouring of their
dresses orange, red, gold, and purple making
them appear in the distance like masses of gorgeous
flowers.
We were soon in the crowd below, making
our way towards the audience hall; but our progress
was not rapid, for time after time a mask or a group
of hooded revellers stopped us; but with light words
and merry jests we put them aside, and descending
the steps entered the great hall. Here the crowd
was so great that we were barely able to move; but
at last we reached a pillar, on the base of which I
placed my charge, and, standing beside her, we looked
here, there, and everywhere for the Queen and De Lorgnac.
“I do not see them,” whispered mademoiselle.
“’Tis like searching for
a needle in sand; but, if I mistake not, Madame de
Poitiers will prove a magnet. Let us keep our
eyes there.”
With this I pointed before me towards
the upper end of the hall, where a large empty space
was reserved for dancing, though for the present the
music had ceased, and the musicians were seated idle
in the galleries above. Beyond this space was
a dais, surmounted by a canopy of pale blue silk,
spangled with the silver crescents of Diane de Poitiers.
Behind the dais ran a huge buffet, many stages in
height, rich with matchless plate, and in the centre
was a sword, an enormous cross-hilted sword, said
to be the Joyeuse of Charlemagne.
On each side of the dais stood the
two hundred gentlemen of the King’s house in
violet and gold, the bright steel blades of the battle-axes
they bore on their shoulders reflecting back the light
in dazzling rays, and immediately in front stood the
herald Montjoy with his trumpeters.
Although every soul in the crowd wore
a mask and hood there were many on the dais who wore
no disguise, and amongst these was the King.
Henri was clad in white, with a white plume in his
cap, in memory of the day years ago when, arrayed
in white armour, he had ridden the lists at Fontainebleau
in honour of Diane, and borne her arms to victory.
Near him was Laval, the gallant Bois-Dauphin, who
ran the King hard in that gentle day, and, but for
the short splintering of a lance, might have been
declared the victor. He too was clad in memory
of the day, all in scarlet, with a phoenix for his
crest the arms of Claude de Foix.
For the moment he was engaged in talk with a brilliant
cavalier, the Bayard of his age, Francis, Marquis de
Vieilleville.
But though here and there a great
name, or a striking figure on the dais, might attract
attention, almost all interest was centred on a woman,
who stood with the fingers of one hand resting lightly
on the King’s arm. It was Diane de Poitiers
herself. Tall, with black, curling hair and
perfect features, with dark, melting eyes, she bore
herself as a queen. The royal jewels of France
sparkled on her head, at her throat, and on her arms,
and glittered amidst the robes of black and white
she wore. Her voice when she spoke was low and
sweet, yet I had heard it as hard as steel, and I
had seen those red lips curve wickedly, and those
dark eyes had looked with sullen and pitiless indifference
on scenes of hideous torture and death. There
were two masks in front of us, arm-in-arm, watching
the scene as intently as we were.
“That woman was born to be queen
over men. Look at those eyes, Montaigne!”
The answer came in a dry, precise
voice: “Eyes are the windows of the soul;
but Quid tibi praecipiam molles vitare fenestras? and
you are courtier enough, De Brantome, to appreciate
Fontanus’ warning.”
“I am courtier enough, my philosopher,
to know that the crescent moon, for instance, is out
of my reach, not like that orange mask there.”
“I do not know to whom you refer.”
“There, at the edge of the dais.
’Tis De Ganache, who, from the day he
set foot in Court, has followed Diane about like a
spaniel; and though I care not to gossip ”
Mademoiselle shivered, and half turned
towards me; but the talk came to an abrupt ending,
for the herald Montjoy made a sign, and the trumpeters,
advancing each a step, sounded a flourish. It
was the signal for the galliard. As the flourish
ended the music broke forth, and in a moment the empty
space before us was gay with moving colours, like
a wind-stirred flower bed. Those on the dais
seemed to melt away, and mademoiselle, leaning forwards,
whispered: “Take me out of this! Anywhere
but here!”
She took my arm again, and we edged
our way back to the entrance. Here, however,
we found the throng so great that it was impossible
to pass, and seeing a little passage to our right
I turned down it. Here, amidst some foliage,
was a secluded seat, and seating her there I took
my stand beside her, at a narrow window that opened
out upon the Ladies’ Terrace. The night
was warm, and throwing back her hood and removing
her mask mademoiselle leaned forward and looked out
upon the fairy scene in the gardens. The music
came to us in fitful strains of melody, and outside
was a glittering enchantment.
“Have you changed your opinion
of the Court, mademoiselle?” I asked.
“No! a hundred times
no! Monsieur, I would rather be the poorest
peasant girl on my lands than Diane de Paradis.”
I was about to reply when we heard
a laugh and the sound of low voices near us.
Where we sat it was almost dark; but there was a dim
light in the passage, and through the foliage we saw
two figures standing side by side not three feet from
us. In the orange hood of one I recognised De
Ganache, and the other yes, that laugh
and voice, once heard, were never to be forgotten.
De Ganache held her hand in his.
He raised it to his lips, and covering it with kisses
broke into mad, foolish words the speech
of a man who has cast aside all self-respect, all
honour. Ere he had spoken ten words, however,
mademoiselle had sprung from her seat and stepped
out into the passage, I following on her heels.
At sight of her De Ganache went back as if he
had been struck; but with superb insolence the Duchess
stood in her way.
“So,” she said in hard
tones, “this is the second time to-night!”
And then, with a shameless laugh, she turned to De
Ganache. “You are unfortunate, Monsieur
lé Vicomte; you see, I have a rival even here.
I congratulate mademoiselle on the quickness with
which she has learned the lessons of the Court.”
And with a mocking bow she took De Ganache by
the arm and swept down the passage.
Mademoiselle was shivering from head
to foot, and even by the uncertain light I could see
her eyes were swimming with tears. For a moment
all her courage, all her high spirit, seemed to have
left her.
“Oh, what does this mean?”
she moaned. “What does she mean by the
second time? I ”
“She meant, mademoiselle, that
she had met the Queen, who is masked as you are; but,
Queen or no Queen,” I went on grimly, “you
have had enough of this, and I will take you back
at once. There! Put on your mask, and
draw your hood up and come!”
I led her back towards the main entrance,
which we managed to gain this time without much difficulty,
and thence into the gardens. Mademoiselle spoke
no word, nor did I intrude upon her thoughts.
We crossed the Ladies’ Terrace, the little
groups of people scattered here and there being much
too absorbed in their own business to take any note
of us, and finally stood once more upon the battlements.
Along these we hurried until we reached the stairway
leading to the Philippine, and as we came up two figures
stepped out of the shadow into our path. My
charge shrank back with a little gasp of alarm, so
sudden and unexpected was their appearance, and I half
drew my poniard, but put it back again on the moment,
for I recognised De Lorgnac and Le Brusquet.
“I thought we would meet you
here,” said the latter; “but your task
ends now, Chevalier. De Lorgnac will now escort
mademoiselle back.”
“If I am permitted the honour,” put in
De Lorgnac.
“It seems that to-night I must
play the marionette to your pulling, Le Brusquet,”
I laughed as I made way for De Lorgnac; and for once
the little man made no reply, but addressing Diane
said: “The Queen has already returned,
and you will find the salon full, mademoiselle; but
before you go give me that hood; it might tell tales.
I will see it safely returned.”
Diane removed the hood, and handed
the soft silken folds to Le Brusquet.
“Messieurs,” she said,
her eyes shining brightly behind the mask she still
wore, “it seems that you are hiding something
from me. What is it?”
“You will know in a few minutes,
mademoiselle,” said De Lorgnac, “for the
Queen herself will tell you.”
She made no answer, but, gravely wishing
us good-night, followed De Lorgnac up the stone steps,
and, passing through the archway, the two were lost
to our view. When they had gone I turned to Le
Brusquet.
“I too am in the dark. What did De Lorgnac
mean?”
“He meant that his Majesty,
by some means or other, discovered that the Queen
was at the masque and who remained behind in the cabinet.
The result was that, an hour after you took mademoiselle
away, the King, attended only by the Vidame d’Orrain both
wearing masks and hoods visited the Queen’s
apartments, and ” He stopped
and chuckled.
“And what?” I said.
“And found the Queen alone in her cabinet reading
Ronsard.”