Part 28 (1/2)
”The English king was a wicked man,” he said, ”but he died like a great chief.”
They all pa.s.sed out now, the street was filled with carriages and the torches of the link boys and there was a great hum of conversation.
St. Luc returned to Robert's mind, but he kept to himself the fact that he had been in the theater. It might be his duty to state to the military that he had seen in the city an important Frenchman who must have come as a spy, but he could not do so. Nor did he feel any p.r.i.c.klings of the conscience about it, because he believed, even if he gave warning of St. Luc's presence, the wary chevalier would escape.
They stood at the edge of the sidewalk, watching the carriages, great high-bodied vehicles, roll away. Mr. Hardy had a carriage of his own, but the distance between his house and the theater was so short that he had not thought it necessary to use it. The night was clear, very cold and the illusion of the play was still upon the younger members of his group.
”You liked it?” said Mr. Hardy, looking keenly at Robert.
”It was another and wonderful world to me,” replied the youth.
”I thought it would make a great appeal to you,” said Master Benjamin.
”Your type of mind always responds quickly to the poetic drama. Ah, there goes Mynheer Adrian Van Zoon. He has entered his carriage without looking once in our direction.”
He and Willet and Master Jonathan laughed together, softly but with evident zest. Whatever the feeling between them and whatever the cause might be, Robert felt that they had the advantage of Mynheer Van Zoon that night and were pus.h.i.+ng it. They watched the crowd leave and the lights fade in the darkness, and then they walked back together to the solid red brick house of Mr. Hardy, where Grosvenor took leave of them, all promising that the acquaintance should be continued.
”A fine young man,” said Mr. Hardy, thoughtfully. ”I wish that more of his kind would come over. We can find great use for them in this country.”
Charteris also said farewell to them, telling them that his own house was not far away, and offering them his services in any way they wished as long as they remained in the city.
”Another fine young man,” said Master Benjamin, as the tall figure of Charteris melted away in the darkness. ”A good representative of our city's best blood and manners, and yes, of morals, too.”
Robert went alone the next morning to the new public library, founded the year before and known as the New York Society Library, a novelty then and a great evidence of munic.i.p.al progress. The most eminent men of the city, appointed by Governor de Lancey, were its trustees, and, the collection already being large, Robert spent a happy hour or two glancing through the books. History and fiction appealed most to him, but he merely looked a little here and there, opening many volumes. He was proud that the intelligence and enterprise of New York had founded so n.o.ble an inst.i.tution and he promised himself that if, in the time to come, he should be a permanent resident of the city, his visits there would be frequent.
When he left the library it was about noon, the day being cloudy and dark with flurries of snow, those who were in the streets s.h.i.+vering with the raw cold. Robert drew his own heavy cloak closely about him, and, bending his head a little, strolled toward the Battery, in order to look again at the s.h.i.+ps that came from so many parts of the earth. A stranger, walking in slouching fas.h.i.+on, and with the collar of his coat pulled well up about his face, shambled directly in his way. When Robert turned the man turned also and said in a low tone:
”Mr. Lennox!”
”St. Luc!” exclaimed Robert. ”Are you quite mad? Don't you know that your life is in danger every instant?”
”I am not mad, nor is the risk as great as you think. Walk on by my side, as if you knew me.”
”I did not think, chevalier, that your favorite role was that of a spy.”
”Nor is it. This New York of yours is a busy city, and a man, even a Frenchman, may come here for other reasons than to learn military secrets.”
Robert stared at him, but St. Luc admonished him again to look in front of him, and walk on as if they were old acquaintances on some business errand.
”I don't think you want to betray me to the English,” he said.
”No, I don't,” said Robert, ”though my duty, perhaps, should make me do so.”
”But you won't. I felt a.s.sured of it, else I should not have spoken to you.”
”What duty, other than that of a spy, can have brought you to New York?”
”Why make it a duty? It is true the times are troubled, and full of wars, but one, on occasion, may seek his pleasure, nevertheless. Let us say that I came to New York to see the play which both of us witnessed last night. 'Twas excellently done. I have seen plays presented in worse style at much more pretentious theaters in Paris. Moreover I, a Frenchman, love Shakespeare. I consider him the equal of our magnificent Moliere.”
”Which means that if you were not a Frenchman you would think him better.”